A Need to Injure
by Piccolo Sky
Summary: When a mass breakout occurs at Arkham Asylum, Batman gears up for the worst. But the following investigation reveals there's a lot more at work than his "rogue's gallery" up to their standard murder and mayhem. As he tries to get to the bottom of it, the dark knight finds himself facing a sadistic new villain, and under increasing temptation to "look the other way"...
1. Eight Men Out

Hey there! Piccolo Sky trying again for a Batman fanfic...a "real" one this time.

If you know me, you know I'm working on "Guilty Gear X" right now. However, I'm going to try to put that out more or less in "one go". In the meantime, I'm also working on two other projects I'm going to put out chapter-by-chapter for once and see how it progresses. This will give people more opportunities to point out critiques, and I'll probably need them for this one.

I'll warn you in advance this one is going to get pretty graphic. I may need to rate it M at some point, but this first chapter is harmless.

* * *

**A NEED TO INJURE**

* * *

"People should either be caressed or crushed. If you do them minor damage they will get their revenge; but if you cripple them there is nothing they can do. If you _need to injure _someone, do it in such a way that you do not have to fear their vengeance."

~ _Niccolo Machiavelli_

* * *

Another long night.

In might have been his job, but Jim Gordon _hated_ long nights…especially ones that began with his least favorite four words in existence.

_Mass breakout at Arkham._

It was bad enough when the local criminals treated the prisonesque island with only one entrance and exit like it was a revolving door at a shopping mall. Yet the commissioner grew especially infuriated with the staff and management there whenever something like this happened. For all of the tax revenue and technology poured into it, how on Earth could they not just keep some of the worst psychos in the world locked up? It would be one thing if it required some "sophistication" or "planning" on the part of the inmates, but the truth was they'd be lucky if they could keep any one of them behind bars for 18 months nowadays. At any rate, one breakout was fine…but whenever one of _these_ happened, Gordon knew it was only a matter of hours before the whole town was painted red…

Gordon had put it off for years because it would have been a sign of just how bad things had gotten, but after the last breakout he had managed to work with the mayor to implement a "protocol" in the case of another mass breakout of Arkham Asylum. He certainly had a hard time getting him to go with it. After all, setting up such a measure might as well have been a campaign advertisement that he couldn't do a thing to improve the rampant crime in Gotham City. Yet eventually, for once, he "saw the light" and allowed it. Within fifteen minutes of being notified by a special hotline that there had been a mass breakout at the mental facility, four SWAT team wagons were barricading the only way in and out and three helicopters were in the air. Regular officers were making the rounds in the surrounding blocks for everyone to stay indoors and accosting anyone they saw looking for a hitchhike or seeming suspicious. The rest of the city was being advised of the situation and would soon receive notification of who to look out for. At Arkham itself, it was on total lockdown. No one could move in or out of any region of the various parts of the major buildings, and the controls were all remote…one in the control of the psychologists in a small shack on the mainland, and another under control by the police themselves. Both were encrypted using the latest in Lexcorp technology and, similar to how the U.S. Navy did it, "one-way" hashes were used to ensure no one could hack the line.

The commissioner himself had already "suited up for battle", wearing a bullet-proof vest, armed with both a handgun and a shotgun, and pretty much "marshalling the troops" to head inside shortly. To be honest, there wasn't a single report, from security or otherwise, that said he couldn't break right in right now…which was exactly why neither he nor any other officer was charging in. In his experience, every time something seemed "easy" it was because a demented lunatic was trying to lure them in to their doom. So although numerous veteran cops were fully loaded with riot gear and rubber bullets, they found themselves waiting for Gordon to give the signal for the all clear. By now, he realized everything "seemed" alright, at least. If someone was planning something, it was going to be something they hadn't tried before based on past escapes. About the only thing Gordon could think of that hadn't been tested in a while was boats, but he already had phoned the coast guard, and they were on their way to start scanning the shore with searchlights and make sure no one was planning anything.

However, he was truly waiting on only one more "line of defense" in particular… He could have thrown up the signal, but he wanted him to come straight here, and he figured that he'd know based on the blotter and the news reports that this was where the "fire" was located.

All he had to do now was stand here and wait for the inevitable…what he knew was always coming but still caught him off guard to this-

"Your new 'response protocol' is pretty good. I almost learned about it the same time as everyone else."

Gordon managed to at least keep from jumping this time…unlike the other officers about him, who snapped around in a flash and nearly held out their weapons to who had spoken. However, the commissioner had purposely "set up shop" closer to the edge of the police barricade so that he wouldn't have to try wading through everyone else and making himself visible. And sure enough, when he turned to look, he kept more to the shadows…

Even so, it was unmistakable in the flickering lights of the claxions and the few searchlights turned on to miss the signature black, flowing cape and cowl terminating in those two elongated "points" on top. The only sign that this was a man and not some sort of living shadow being the jaw and lips from beneath it, and those eyes that burned so hard they seemed nearly white…

Gordon managed a half smile and a snort. "Perhaps one of these days, I'll force you to watch the news for updates. As it is…I'll let it slide how you knew there was a mass breakout in Arkham before we made it public."

"I keep an ear open." Batman simply responded as he took a few steps forward. As in most of these encounters, he never actually looked to Gordon once. His eyes were on the bridge leading from the mainland to Arkham, and in particular on the asylum beyond. "Who all is missing?"

"Only the 'worst-of-the-worst'." The commission darkly responded. "Eight in all. Waylon Jones, Pamela Isley, Harleen Quinzel, Harvey Dent, Jonathan Crane, Edward Nigma, Victor Zsasz, and…" He let in a deep breath and exhaled after that. "…Our favorite."

"…The Joker." Batman echoed.

"Any one of them alone would be enough to give me a migrane…well, except maybe Quinzel…" Gordon continued. "Now all eight of them are out."

"How'd they get out of their cells?"

"Bribery. At least…that's what we're assuming for the time being. There was no physical trauma on the locks to their cells, and it didn't happen during one of their regular transits either. To be honest…" He paused. "…It was a rather quiet one, this time. Almost shocking considering there was eight of them who left. Usually whenever there's a mass breakout they leave a trail of bodies and destruction…"

The dark knight actually reacted a bit to this, before turning his head slightly in Gordon's direction.

"…And this time?"

"Zero body count. No casualties at all." Gordon responded. "The only reason they even knew about the breakout was during one of the scheduled checks. They found Nigma's cell empty and Zsasz's soon after. They did an inmate head count after that, which is where they found four of the others missing. However, Isley's and Jones' special cells had been breached too."

"…But not by force."

"Exactly. That's the funny thing. Jones isn't exactly 'subtle' whenever he escapes. One could assume Isley drugged someone into letting her out…but the last headcount of the staff confirms it: all present and accounted for. No one's missing. Hence the measures we're taking right now. It's reasonable to assume that they're hiding somewhere among the staff or other inmates. But so far, all signs point negative. Isley or Crane might be able to make people 'see things', but the cameras don't lie and they couldn't hack them."

"_Someone_ had to, however." Batman corrected. "Otherwise you would have seen them leave their cells."

"That's why I feel it's a trap. No mass breakout has _ever_ been this 'quiet'." Gordon responded. "Just the same, we can't stay out here all night. I was about to move in."

"You said that the staff found the cells empty." The vigilante continued, ignoring the statement. "Do they have any estimate on what window of time could have elapsed?"

"Assuming the cameras indeed somehow got altered, then the only 'reliable' check would be whoever stopped by the cells for the routine checks. Those are once an hour. A pretty big time frame…but not considering how long it would take to get off of Arkham through all the rest of the security measures."

"They'd also probably be 'staggered' unless they somehow managed to all escape at the same time…" He mused in response.

"I'll admit, all of this is very peculiar…and the more I think on the 'fine details' the more peculiar it gets." The commissioner continued. "As 'unprofessional' as this might be, I'll actually take your 'recommendation' into consideration on this one. I don't really care to walk into a bad situation."

Batman hesitated a moment, looking back to the asylum across the river. He stared for a few moments of silence.

"…Move in." He finally said.

Gordon's eyebrow actually raised. "I'm actually a bit surprised."

"Trap or not, the only way to learn more at this point is to get in there." The dark knight responded. "But for what it's worth…I have the feeling that the eight of them are already long gone."

* * *

About three hours later, it seemed Batman had been spot on.

Getting fully into Arkham Asylum was a bit of a difficulty, but unless there was an emergency being reported, Gordon made sure to take it nice and slow, only unlocking the security checkpoints one at a time as he brought the officers in, secured the area, investigated it for any signs of sabotage or anything out of the ordinary, and then cleared for the next stop. It was arduously slow, but he didn't want to take any chances. Yet as they slowly progressed deeper into the island, nothing was found. Eventually they got to the main administration building, made contact with the staff, and began to spread out from there. The first spot, naturally, was the main detention area. That area was still filled with inmates, after all. Some of them being just as dangerous as the escapees. Yet after a thorough investigation, all other cells, blocks, and "special containment facilities", such as the ones for Fries or Karlo, were all clear. After confirming there was indeed no one hiding among the staff, they moved out to the other buildings. They were still finishing up the sweeps into all the places like crawl spaces and broom closets, but it began to look like the entire island was secure.

By this time, Gordon was looking around in the very cell block area where Nigma had first gone missing. Both he and his men had calmed down considerably at this point, and the guns had been put away. The commissioner hadn't dismissed any squads yet, but he was on the brink of doing so. It was like he said…they were already long gone. Yet even if this had been yet another case where both the staff at Arkham as well as the GCPD was made to look like fools…it seemed "off".

He rubbed the back of his head as he looked at the cell. A moment later, a shadow "fell over him", but he knew enough to know who it was and didn't react. Soon the bat-themed vigilante advanced on the cell and stepped inside. He couldn't see exactly what he was doing based on the back of the cape, but he had an idea he was already doing what Gordon knew he himself would be doing soon: shifting from attempted recapturing of a criminal to a crime scene investigation.

"I honestly don't know whether to be happy or unsettled." He said as he turned his head to look at the other vacant blocks. "I've never seen a breakout this quiet. It's like they were ghosts. This had to be well-orchestrated, but as bad as it is to have all eight of them out at a time, I know for a fact they don't 'work well enough' together to get out so easily."

By this time, a small electronic noise had gone off from Batman and began to hum. Gordon kept an eye on him, and saw him look around the cell. When his head turned close to him, he noted that some sort of white, glowing lenses had moved over his eyes, and he seemed to be scanning the interior.

"As 'unsettling' as this is, this also doesn't match a typical 'time frame'." He answered. "The Joker never 'seizes an opportunity' to escape Arkham. He only ever leaves when he has something in mind and already prepared. By now, considering when he was seen missing from his cell to the time it took police to respond, move in, and then investigate to this point…he normally would have already started making 'his presence known'. The fact that everything's still quiet in Gotham City makes me suspicious…"

"They could always be 'lying low'." Gordon answered. "I'll admit, it sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud. One of them breaking out might be a cause to hide, but multiple breakouts and I know they want to all cause a ruckus at once so that we'll be spread too thin trying to get all eight as opposed to one. It's still conceivable though."

Batman finished looking over with the visor, and the electronic noise stopped. A moment later, he removed a small device and brought it over to a spot on the floor. Gordon saw nothing, and had no idea what that "gadget" was, but by this point he had learned to go with it.

"If the cameras are intact and none of the security measures were tripped, that leaves only one possibility: they had assistance in one form of another in escaping." He said as he ran it over the spot on the floor.

Gordon gave a nod. "We've already checked out the 'usual suspects' as far as 'coercion' is concerned. No evidence of fear or plant toxins unless they're totally new blends that don't set off any tracers. That doesn't rule out hypnotic suggestions, of course, but I'm seriously not considering it as the staff that watch Jones and Isley rarely made contact with those who watch the other six, and the Joker had his own set of veterans reserved just for him. That leaves the more obvious route: bribery. Unfortunately, investigating the staff is going to be a bit harder. Arkham is supposed to do financial background checks on every new staff member as well as criminal, but between their abnormally high turnaround and how easy it is to falsify data before coming to work here, there's only so much we can get from records. It's going to have to be a more direct investigation of each staff member."

Batman didn't answer. He soon rose from the cell, exited it, walking right by Gordon, and went into Dent's cell a block down. He soon went inside and did much the same thing. Finally, he exited and went to Quinzell's cell and did so one more time. Gordon stayed quiet, watching this with progressively more interest as he worked.

"…Find something?" He asked as he stepped out of the third cell.

"Nothing stronger than what you have, at the moment." Batman responded. "I agree with you that some of the staff helped them make this escape. But like you said…this was uncharacteristic for them."

"I guess it's a bit 'comforting' for right now." The commissioner exhaled as he crossed his arms and looked to the ceiling. "I was expecting to stay up all night chasing down madmen trying to blow up school buses. Staying up all night doing basic interrogations and background checks will be a nice change of pace. What exactly do _you_ have planned?"

However, even as he said that, Gordon nearly wanted to slap himself. He realized he made the "big mistake" and took his eyes off of him. Sure enough, on lowering it again, he found himself talking to nothing but an empty hall.

He snorted. "Maybe they just all took lessons from _you_ in leaving without a trace…" He muttered.

* * *

By now, Batman had long since found a "great spot" to stash the Batmobile for stops by Arkham Asylum. After all, it made sense to have one on stand-by as often as he came. It also responded well to remote. Between it homing in on his location and his sudden "stepping out", he was back in the seat and driving down the street in as little as one minute, seventeen seconds after leaving Gordon behind. A personal record.

He had just made the first turn to start heading for the outskirts of Gotham when he spoke a word out loud.

"Alfred."

A moment later, his console reacted, activated the wireless subroutine he had long since programmed in, and not long after that began to dial up Wayne Manor. After only one and a half rings a clicking sound was heard.

_"__Is something the matter, Master Bruce?"_

"Just letting you know I'm heading back."

A brief pause. _"I must say, I am a bit surprised. The evening news said there was a mass breakout at Arkham Asylum. Eight of your 'favorite friends'."_

"And by now, at least one of them would have started something normally." Batman responded. "But this breakout was one of the more unusual ones, and didn't leave any 'calling cards' like normal. I'm afraid this is one of those situations where I may end up having to wait for them to make the first move. I found something in the cells of Nigma, Dent, and Quinzel. The preliminary analysis indicates it's the same substance for each, and I wouldn't be surprised if it ended up being in the other cells as well. I'm not sure if it will turn anything up, but until something else comes along, I suppose I'll be spending the night in the Batcave."

_"__And I had just finished cleaning up the kitchen for the day…" _Alfred responded. _"Will you settle for a salad and a sandwich this evening, sir?"_

Batman couldn't help it…he nearly cracked a half-smile. "Considering I'm going to be up for a bit, that actually sounds good."

_"__Very well, sir." _A click on the end.

* * *

Within less than an hour Batman was back in the Batcave, but, unfortunately, other than Alfred bringing down the promised sandwich and salad (he would have settled for Caesar; this one ended up having dried cranberries and walnuts), the rest of the night was less than eventful. He supposed he should have been grateful. The less trouble they caused the better. However, he had his doubts that things would be so "easy". After all, Zsasz was more than a serial killer…he was a _compulsive_ serial killer. He wouldn't be able to stay out of his cell very long before he would have a need to find someone to kill. Of course, in the more grimmer situation, they simply might not have found his latest victim yet… He would have expected something from him if no one else.

As far as the chemical he had found, there was little to discover from it. It was the same blend that the staff at Arkham used for sedation. Definitely a signature for the asylum, as it could either be injected in small amounts in liquid form or injested directly. Fairly unique in that regard. There weren't too many substances that one could ingest and expect to get the same effect from injection. Still, it wasn't entirely out of place.

Or, rather, it _wouldn't_ be if it wasn't for the fact that there were large "patches" of it in the cells. That was too sloppy for an injection. A syringe would have had to break on the floor, but even then it wouldn't fit because the samples Batman had picked up had been in powder form. Besides, he had been doing some check into Arkham's records since getting back. Some of them were remotely sealed, but patient incident reports were more "public". None of them had an issue in recent history that would have been expected to leave traces of the drugs in the cell. That left only ingestion, but these drugs were given in nice "capsule" form. It was possible that the inmates had broken them open and dumped them out, but three of them in one day? So far, it was plausible that it was nothing, but it was the only thing "suspicious", other than the situation itself, that stood out.

He tried looking into additional "accessible" records of Arkham as well as starting to keep an eye on the "usual haunts"…channels that the somewhat less "insane" criminals might use to get money, sign up new associates, or simply lie low for a couple weeks until they were ready to make a move. So far, nothing. At least nothing he could get from computer access. Pretty soon it would be time to start "shaking people down" to see if he could get more information that way. But before that happened, he was holding out for just a bit longer…enough for the police to do the first part of his job for him…

As he waited for the last few minutes to pass, part of the computer he was seated in front of gave a signal noise. Instantly, the name appeared on screen as well as which line it was. A moment later, the dark knight reached over and pressed the reception button.

"Yes?"

_"__Figured you could use the 'company' since I guess we're both pulling an all nighter." _A young man's voice answered. _"I actually thought I might run into you out here…"_

"Ten years ago, I might have. Since then I learned to watch for certain 'signals' before I waste a few hours on fruitless searching. With no clues and no signal of anyone running any dirty money transfers to the usual 'trafficking locations', there's no point in making a move yet. I'm learning just as much staying in."

A pause on the other end. _"…Well that's just great. I've been getting sweaty running around the Narrows for five hours while you've been back at home. I'm sure you even got Alfred to make you a sandwich."_

"Comes with experience." Batman calmly answered. "Now you know why I had to fight not to roll my eyes some nights when you wanted to head out with me."

_"__Just please tell me it was roast beef. If it was one of his ham and cheese deals I'm going to smack my head against this brick wall…"_

"If you're wondering whether I turned up anything," Batman cut off. "There were few to no clues available at Arkham. At least not during my initial investigation. None of the staff are throwing up warning signs this time other than the usual fare…low income, poorly skilled staff who are desperate for money even if it means working in an asylum. I found some drug residue in powder form on the floor of two of the cells, however. Given the patient records, it seemed out of place. It would imply a capsule of their medication had been broken open."

A pause on the other end. _"But why would they want to do that? Were they trying to drug the staff?"_

"So far there doesn't appear to be any indication of that. One thing's for certain…_someone_ on the staff knows what's going on. And it must go at least high enough to get one of the one-way hashes to the security cameras. I haven't checked on them directly yet, but I intend to in about thirty minutes. Anything on your end?"

_"__Not a thing. It almost seems like the underworld is as confused about this as the average joe watching TV. I'll tell you this much. The last two guys I 'had a talk with' seemed like they were a bit surprised that they _hadn't_ been called by one of them. I mean…Dent at least normally has enough of his wits to head for a safe house."_

"Exactly. While I hesitate to call a 'mass breakout' 'typical', this is not a 'typical' mass breakout."

_"__Any suggestions? I'd like it if this wasn't a total waste…"_

"Check out the Iceberg Lounge. Oswald Cobblepott is pretty much the only man I can think of at the moment who would be able to 'spirit away' multiple Arkham inmates and not let anyone else know about it. If that turns up dry, I'd see about boat rentals."

_"…__Boats?"_

"One thing is clear that I found out so far. Three independent sources confirm none of the inmates got out via the strip of land connecting Arkham to the mainland. Assuming they're not still on that island, they had to have used a boat."

A pause on the other end. _"…Alright. But what about you?"_

"By now, the police have to be done interrogating everyone who would have been in a position to help those eight escape. To be honest, I'm not seeing much of a 'tie' linking the newer employees at Arkham together in a way that could have allowed anyone bribed to get eight of them out. So I'm going to try passing the information along to a 'higher' authority."

_"__Ah. Tell Barb I said hi, will you?"_

"…You _are_ aware that this line isn't necessarily completely secure, aren't you, _Red Robin_?"

_"__Er…right. Talk to you later."_

The line clicked, and Batman disconnected his end. Soon after, he brought up the employee roster once again on his computer. As he had seen before, nothing stood out too much about it. Nothing too "overt" at any rate. While he wouldn't put many of them past being "bribed", none of them were in such financial straits that they had no other choice. Neither did any of them have any history of criminal ties or outstanding behavioral problems. This wasn't going to be a 'quick finger'…

The console beeped, and an icon popped up. Batman immediately clicked it open, and soon pulled up a compiled list based off of the police records and Arkham's own less-secure files. In no time at all, it cross-referenced to his earlier listing and he pulled up about sixteen individuals that could have had control over the custody of the eight inmates that evening. Normally it would have been five or six, but considering the vastly different blocks they inhabited and security measures, there were additional ones. About the only ones who "overlapped" were the head orderly for that evening and the attending physician. Possibly the head security guard for that evening. It hadn't been Aaron Cash or any of the other staff members Batman could say he held some "implicit trust" for, and so he wasn't "writing off" anyone just yet.

In no time at all, he made a listing of the various names. After that, he typed a few more keys to make a call. He intended to leave a message on the secure line he was dialing. After all, it was 4 AM by now. But he soon got a bit of a surprise when a voice answered.

_"__Uh…psst…uh…psst… Hello, Bruce…"_

"Oracle… I didn't expect you to be up this early."

_"__Eight escapees from Arkham in one night? Uh…psst… Please…even if I didn't get up early for PT I'd have been up all night seeing if dad was coming up with something or if you would come calling… Uh…psst… I'm a little surprised you didn't do it earlier… Uh…psst…"_

Hearing her heavy, labored breathing, the dark knight interjected. "Am I catching you at a bad time?"

_"__What? No…no… Uh…psst… Just one more rep… Uh…psst!" _A sound of some objects moving. _"Seriously…some days I wonder why I even bother…just let them 'shrivel up into sticks' already… 'Hope springs eternal', I guess… Besides, so long as I have a piece of equipment that can work dead legs that cost a hundred grand, I might as well use it. Anyway, what do you need?"_

"I'm sending you a listing of the staff that would have been in a position to orchestrate a breakout from Arkham tonight. Their files that are public knowledge are clean…or at least 'clean enough' to not show anything suspicious. I need you to dig a bit deeper and find out what you can."

_"__Sure thing. Although I'm a little surprised that this is all that this is about. I've been waiting six hours for word, thinking you may have already cracked the case wide open, and it sounds like you barely got started."_

"This was a well-done one, Oracle. Uncharacteristically well-done, especially considering who escaped. There's something not right here…something completely atypical. Definitely too careful. I have a feeling it can't be leading to anything good."

_"__I can agree with that… How many are you sending?"_

"Sixteen."

_"__Give me about two hours."_

"Take four. I think I've sat around long enough waiting for the police to clear out of the area. I'm heading back to Arkham to see if I can't find anything in the security files. Errors and inconsistencies, if nothing else."

_"__Alright. I'll be done by the time you get back. Be careful. Since this is 'atypical', that means that it might not be quite safe for _you_ either."_

"I will. By the way, Tim says hi."

* * *

The next four hours were a bit more "productive" than earlier, but only made things, as the saying went, "curiouser and curiouser".

The police had turned up little. It seemed the staff for that evening were quite good at coming up with alibis. While there was little doubt in Batman's mind that at least one of them had assisted in the breakout, there was no obvious way to tell from the initial interrogation. The police were even having a hard time picking one of them to be a "person of interest" to do further investigation into. And all the while, Gotham remained quiet. It was daybreak by now and there had not been a single threat, attack, crime, or demand made that could be attributed to the eight escapees.

Batman had returned to Arkham when the police had thinned out a bit and made the rounds. He found the police had already discovered the powdered drug, not just in the cells Batman had investigated but all of the escapees. However, they weren't looking into them with too much interest on finding that they originated in Arkham. They were considering it possibly a case of addiction. It wouldn't be the first time inmates in an asylum had ended up getting hooked on their own treatment meds. Batman wasn't so sure, however. He knew that there had been some success in the past in adapting drugs to work on Isley's physiology…but the Joker had been exposed to so many lethal doses of drugs over the years that no medication would leave an impact on him, even in a poisonous dose. The fact that there were drugs in his cell too concerned him...

The security footage took a bit more work to get to. After all, that was kept under tighter conditions without remote access, but it was nothing the dark knight wasn't used to getting before. Especially since he had long since decoded the 'backdoor frequencies' to Lexcorp's security technology. On looking at the security footage, it didn't take long to realize it was doctored. It was a fairly seamless "transition" when it came to the tape that had been overwritten, but what truly gave it away was showing the same orderly make two identical security checks. The real question wasn't that the footage had been doctored, but to what extent. And spending only thirty minutes showed that this was quite extensive. It wasn't just the corridor with the cells. It had been numerous other pathways through Arkham, leading all the way to the grounds outside.

_So they must have used a boat to escape after all. _Batman thought to himself. _That's the only escape assuming they took that path. And since the rest of the footage isn't doctored, then it means whoever did it wasn't setting 'red herrings' to try and cover up the escape. Still…this is unusual. None of those eight are renown for going to such elaborate lengths to make sure they do a "vanishing act" afterward. Not to mention this isn't nearly as trivial a matter as "offering a couple grand for a key to a cell". These video file accesses are coded by one-way hashes. That means, if nothing else, that bribery would go higher than just the orderlies. It would have to reach the level of security…possibly its head for that evening._

Unfortunately, nothing stood out to Batman even from that. He had looked over the sixteen individuals. One of the "stand-out" features he tried to find was if any of them were new. Perhaps they had been hired ahead of time simply to be in a spot to assist in the breakout. Unfortunately, that wasn't much of a help. Aside from the head physician for that evening, the longest anyone had been there had been one year, including the head of security for that evening. It tended to not make any of them more "obvious" than the others. Furthermore, because the doctoring _was_ so well done, none of them seemed to be culpable.

With the security files a wash, Batman considered the next likely possibility: signaling. He was certain the escape had taken place by boat at this point. But boats weren't just left in dock at Arkham Asylum for someone to come along and commandeer, or even to wait to pick up an inmate. There was obviously an "external" party at work collaborating with whoever was in the asylum. Someone who had actually done the work to get them off the island and back to Gotham City. Boating records might not be too "overt"…but there was an alternate chance at finding out who had gotten them off the island. They had to have some way to signal that everything was "good to go". They could use beacons on the island, but any of the port authorities might have spotted that and realized what was up. On the other hand, Arkham did have "private lines" with which to make phone calls. They were normally reserved for the asylum administrators, but if someone had managed to get ahold of a one-way hash, being able to break in on a private line shouldn't have been a problem. As it was, Batman himself had little trouble getting the records to download.

By the time he had returned home, the sun was already up, so he quickly got to work getting ready for the day as Bruce Wayne. Unfortunately, this wouldn't be one of those days he could use the opportunity to get some sleep. A wealthy donor who recently passed on left 10% of his net worth to the Wayne Foundation. That sort of unexpected influx of money had to be handled rather properly or it could ruin the organization's reputation as one of the "safer bets" for charity. After that, Fox had called him in to evaluate the new candidate pool for an upcoming vice president of the defense technologies branch. It was a rather big deal, so he wanted to make sure to make that as well. Finally, there was supposed to be a "dinner" with a visiting cyclist from France. As Bruce knew he had to maintain a steady supply of "excuses" for him being gone, such as having left the country to follow a biking tour of a "new up-and-coming cyclist", he had to make that as well. All in all, a busy day that promised to have a busy evening as well, as one of the escapees might have made a move by then.

Even as he was putting away the Batsuit, he had Oracle on the speaker phone. He wanted to get as much of this out of the way as possible so he wouldn't waste tonight like he did the previous evening, for the most part.

"What did you find?" He said as he slipped on a "civilian" undershirt.

_"__It took a bit of digging on this one. All of the normal 'tell-tale' signs weren't there. They all have debts of one form or another but nothing too 'crushing' and nothing that the staff at Arkham didn't get reported when they were hired. Pretty much just standard things like credit card bills and mortgages. One of them has a kid brother who can't afford diabetes medication…another has an alchoholic mother…and a third has a cousin who is trying to get a settlement for an accident out of court. Other than that, there's nothing that suggests they have family in financial trouble that they'd be desperate to help. Other than misdemeanors and a DUI or two, no criminal charges against them either."_

"In short, nothing that would make them an obvious target for a bribe." Bruce answered as he finished pulling on his second sock and then went for his pants.

_"__No…but maybe something more interesting."_

The way Oracle said that actually made Bruce pause in putting on the legs. She actually sounded rather intrigued by what she found.

_"__Looking through family records to try and find something that would have led them to get bribes, I noticed something else. Three of the people on that list didn't have unpayable medical bills, but they _did_ have family members in the hospital. One has been in a coma for the past twenty-two months…apparently the result of one of Poison Ivy's toxins. Another is undergoing his third reconstructive surgery to try and rebuild his face after most of it was bitten off and eaten by Killer Croc. The third…well…a stray bullet from Two-Face hit him in a carotid artery. While the blood flow was stopped…it wasn't before he had severe brain damage. The reports say it will be lucky if he'll ever regain a five-year-old mentality. Right now…he can't even feed himself…"_

Bruce continued to clothe himself, but his attention had never been sharper.

_"__As for the others… One of them had two children killed by Joker Venom. Another had his father slash his own wrists after being affected by Fear Toxin. Another had a boyfriend confirmed to be Victor Zsasz's 53__rd__ victim. Need I go on?"_

"No." The man answered as he finished with his pants and moved onto his shoes. "And here I nearly gave Arkham Asylum credit for improving its background checks…"

_"__None of them made these disclosures at the time of hiring." _Oracle went on. _"They reported the family members as deceased and said nothing more about it, assuming they reported them at all. While the staff at Arkham tends to 'triple-check' anything that has to do with past legal trouble or financial issues, they tend to take 'family relationships' at face value. To be honest, there is no section on the employment report specifically asking new hires to report if they had family members who were murdered by inmates. Only if they have a 'conflicting interest' with any staff members or doctors…"_

Bruce continued to tie his shoes, but thought about this. Now there was something he hadn't considered, to be honest… Until now he had assumed this was just another bribery situation. Yet what was coming up made it sound as if it was more than that…if it might actually be to do with revenge. It was a bit unexpected, but not implausible by any stretch. One could argue they'd be surprised it hadn't happened years earlier… Still, he didn't jump to that conclusion so quickly. While this was definitely interesting information, it didn't explain why staff members who had vendettas against inmates would aide them in escaping. Attempting to kill them in their cells would be one thing, but there were no bodies lying around anywhere on Arkham…

"Is that all?"

_"__No."_

Again, Bruce paused in getting dressed.

_"__They all have ties to the same person: a man named Klaudius Labdaris."_

He took a moment to take the name in. It didn't instinctively ring any bells from past matters. "Who is he?"

_"__It's actually hard to tell. Records are sparse even for _me_, if you can believe it. The reason is apparently the most 'news' he ever made was during the Soviet era. He was located in Latvia then and, as best as I can tell, operated out of it for a period of anywhere of five to ten years. There's hints that he was employed by the government, but I really can't tell. It seems most of the records concerning him either were never made public on any sort of network I can access, which really isn't surprising when you think about the region and time period, or…" _A pause. _"…have signs that they were destroyed."_

"What _did_ you manage to find?" Bruce asked as he resumed once again.

_"__Apparently Labdaris was some sort of psychologist. But most of the reports I see from him is that he ranged anywhere from a 'folk remedy practitioner' to an authentic 'quack'. Most of what I could track down as fact came from his school days and residency. While earning his degree a few of his papers urged doctors to reopen investigations in the older methods of mental health 'treatment'…pretty much the ones that made medieval torture look preferable. Apparently he was an advocate of them because he was a backer in 'aversion therapy'. He got disciplined on two separate occasions during residency: one for 'practicing without a full license', and the other for…using one of the electric shock devices they used for convulsive therapy on one of the patients. Somehow he got his degree but…the records gets sketchy after that for the next decade. All I can confirm is two years after the fall of the Soviet Union his degree was officially revoked by the new Latvian government. Yet that didn't stop a number of articles coming out accusing him of independently practicing."_

"And no official patient records?"

_"__As I said, either they're not online or they were ordered to be burned. I'm not exactly sure why they would do the latter, though…"_

"One theory is that he was government-funded by the Soviets. Obviously they couldn't make a claim against Russia even after the end of the Cold War, but there would have to be Latvian citizens who complied with the USSR and carried out tasks on their behalf. If some sort of crime or misdoing was revealed and made public against the citizenry…it would end up being rather bad for whoever Russia would have 'left behind' on pulling out. At any rate, how are these people connected to him?"

_"__Most of them have Latvian, Lithuanian, or Russian backgrounds…relatives that might have been treated by him, I suppose. To be honest, I'm not sure how he figures in to all this when there's no record he's even alive. Only that it was the one thing I could find in common other than their recent hiring and their shared tragedies…"_

"I have a hard time believing it was a coincidence. Not unless it's a sign of the staff appealing to new hires from a particular immigrant demographic."

_"__I don't think so. Only one other person had Latvian heritage and that person has been at Arkham for almost two years now. She's actually a Latvian immigrant but she wasn't even on staff last night."_

"But last night's head of security for the evening was on the list, right?"

_"__You got it."_

"The only one of those sixteen individuals who could possibly access the hash passcodes without needing to bypass some security checkpoints would be him. My guess is the police will probably be after him as soon as they check out the footage themselves and find it was doctored, but I think I'll try to pay him a visit a bit earlier than that. After I make a stop by the docks tonight."

_"__Why the docks?"_

"I did a check on the phone records. Somewhere around the window where I figure the inmates could have physically gotten off the island, a call was made to a phone in one of the piers. My check on it just confirmed that no one had leased that pier or the associated warehouse for the past 36 months, ever since the economy took a downturn."

_"__Sounds like a good bet. Let me know if you need anything else."_

"I will."

* * *

Time seemed to pass slowly at Batman went about through the day. The various events he went to ended up being less important than he anticipated. Most matters were handled prior to his arrival, and the most he did at them was "sit and smile". In spite of that, however, he stuck with them…in case something came up. He could do a bit of work in the daylight as Batman, but he preferred to wait until he had the element of darkness on his side. Yet even so…he wondered something as time passed. He noticed he didn't call things off. He didn't make excuses that "something came up", like he was wanton to do in matters such as this. Other than pausing to look at the news for updates, he stayed pretty much where he was. There was the off chance that he would be needed for a crucial decision or something might change, but not likely. He had "blown off" more important matters in the past…

It almost made him wonder. With the information he had received from Oracle, it was beginning to look like this wasn't a standard breakout at all. It might have been something that was more designed for revenge… That meant something might be happening to those eight escapees at the moment…

And yet, he found he lacked a sense of "urgency" as he considered that.

At any rate, he got on the job the moment the sun went down. At the moment, the Batmobile was pulling along behind the dock in question that he had traced the call to. He didn't plan to be here long. He figured he would get more information out of the security chief. However…there might be something here he could use to ensure he didn't try to lie to him. While there was a great deal of circumstantial evidence at the moment, other than a conflict of interest and the most likely person who could have gotten the hashes, there was little he could definitively pin on the security chief. It wouldn't be the first time Batman had been dead wrong about a suspect…

Once he threw the car into park and activated the defense mechanisms, he opened the cockpit and snapped out in a single fluid movement, his cape fluttering before splaying around his body. He immediately went for his belt and activated the light, then advanced on the building and got to work. There wouldn't be much issue tonight. This entire district was abandoned, not just the one building. There were no doubt derilects or the homeless staying in some of them, and he was sure that a few of them might be utilized for crooked deals of the local street vendor variety. However, he paid them little mind. If anything, seeing the Batmobile or Batman himself in the neighborhood would probably be just as effective as punching them in the face. He proceeded with the investigation.

Only two minutes into it he knew he had found something. Even without the aid of his spectroscopic vision to detect the movement of dust or reasonably fresh footprints, he found a door that had obviously been in use. The grime and dust that had been gathering on it was disturbed recently and the padlock removed. The dark knight decided this entrance was as good as any, and stood before it, grasped the handle, and lifted the sliding metal door.

His flashlight shone within. He took a moment to adjust to the wide-angle beam, and saw that the majority of the room was emptied out. He saw numerous large crates, each one "fridge" sized, however, as well as fresh packing supplies for storing materials for transport. Yet rather than seeing freshly packed crates, he instead saw crates that had been broken open. A bit curious in and of itself… Due to having been sealed, dust wasn't so easy to spot here. Therefore, he turned on the spectroscopic vision and began to scan the interior from a distance. It wasn't long before his digital readout put recent tire tracks and footprints in highlighted colors.

That aroused Batman's interest.

_Footprints scattered everywhere…this wasn't just a "courier" mission. They actually ran around here a bit, probably breaking open these crates. And the footprints aren't Arkham-issue footware either…so it must have been others._

_ …__This makes no sense. Even taking into account that the Arkham staff wanted revenge on these inmates, they could have gotten it just killing them. None of them left the island. They were all accounted for. They had to have contracted others. But what for? What exactly took place?_

Getting no immediate answers, Batman advanced into the chamber, narrowing the beam a bit and beginning a more detailed investigation.

It didn't take long to see that another door had been forced. This one was toward the rear, looking like one of the dock accesses to the end that was nearest the river and, therefore, filled with water to allow external docking from the harbor. It had needed more "work", seemingly pried open with a crowbar or some other tool. At any rate, based on the water inlet, it would have been easy to unload a small boat here. Large enough to carry, say, twenty people at the most all standing up. Other than that, however, there were only more crates that had been broken open as well as ones that had been packed. Batman ventured deeper into the warehouse and began a more thorough search, but he found little more. This place had storage shelves for large items of freight, metal shelves that weren't bolted here and there for tools, and many more of the broken open crates on the former, but all in all there wasn't much to look at in this building, and it didn't take long to go through.

Seeing nothing "overt", Batman began to shift his visor toward clues. It seemed whoever had been there had been smart enough to wear gloves, for there were no fingerprints in the area. However, he doubted any of the Arkham staff that might have been involved would have been here. Yet it took little time for him to calculate at least ten different sets of footwear. There had been many others involved in this…

Searching a bit more, Batman shifted his visor to try and key in on something new…powders and chemicals. The result turned up oil spots in no time flat. Perhaps a place or two here and there where engine oil and antifreeze had been used. Other than that, nothing. As he made his way around one of the shelves, he paused on seeing something at his feet. A bit of trash. Normally, nothing to really be concerned about, but he soon bent over and plucked it off the ground anyway. On doing so, he saw that it was paper and had the labeling for an alcohol swab.

_Like someone uses before giving an injection…_ He thought.

Putting it into a compartment on his belt, he looked up and ahead again…and soon got the most promising sight yet.

An intact crate toward the back, near a metal wastepaper basket. The visor was already detecting carbon traces in the air around it…the signs of fire.

Batman made his way over to the can, although on arrival his first look was to the crate. He noticed something right off the bat. There had been a label on it, but it had been torn off, and apparently in a hurry. Someone had stapled it multiple times, and the paper was so thick that whoever had been there had difficulty with it. He also looked to the can, switching off his visor as he did so. He saw a small pile of ashes along with melted plastic. Obviously the labels for the other crates. Apparently burned to destroy evidence.

He looked back up to the crate nearby soon after. It seemed he had been in a bit of luck with this one. Whoever had been here, they somehow forgot to unpack whatever was in this last crate. It was in a bit of a "tucked-away", dark part of the room, so it was possible it slipped their mind. When they needed to leave, they realized their mistake but didn't have time to deal with it. Perhaps someone had been coming or they had a deadline to meet… So, one of them ripped off the label as fast as they could, threw it in the fire, and then ran for it with the others.

However, in doing so, they had left just a small amount of the label behind. It was in foreign characters, but definitely one of the languages Batman already knew. It might have befuddled the police but not him. It was only a name of a country, but that was quite enough.

_Latvia._

_Seems Oracle was right to pick up on that clue. I'm beginning to put together a theory… I'd like a bit more proof, however…_

He looked again to the crate. So long as it was here, he figured he should have a look. It was definitely packed in an "older" style. While modern crates in the USA might rely on staples from nailguns, this one appeared to have been hammered in the "old fashioned" way. Not wanting to disturb whatever contents might be in there, the dark knight opted against using one of his "gadgets" to slice through the nails and instead grabbed a discarded crowbar from nearby. After inserting it, it only took a single powerful shove from him to pry the lid completely off. Normally impossible for a standard person, but a simple matter for the Batman.

The lid clattered to the ground, and he let the crowbar clatter to the ground as he stepped back to look inside.

It had the virtue of being something he honestly didn't expect. It was…odd, to say the least. It looked like some sort of full-body suit, although if it was it had to have been made with someone rather "beefy" in mind. Bane would actually fit in it…sans Venom, of course, but that alone was something to say. It stood almost a head over Batman and was quite a bit broader than him as well. The suit itself was rather odd-looking, however. On a glance at it, it was painted white, allowing it to stand out in the room. But the outer surface looked tough, like some sort of padding coating or even some form of bulletproof wear. Durable, in other words. Yet aside from that, it also looked as if it was heavily padded. He could tell the surface appeared to be made of close-fitting cushions of a sort. It was seamless from head to toe in that regard, including the headpiece. There were small dots for eyeholes but nothing for a mouth or ears, with joints in the suit allowing mobility, albeit of a rigid kind. However, that seemed a bit pointless as the arms themselves had no gloves. Just solid "balls" on the end, padding for where fists might be.

Very odd. With the lack of openings and the "completeness" of it all, it was almost enough to make someone think it was a strange fetish suit… However, as Batman advanced a step and gave it a closer look, and reached out to actually feel the surface, he realized that it was more akin to what trainers used for attack dogs. The material was thick and soft, but also tough, so that it would absorb a lot of trauma without tearing or breaking. But somehow he doubted it was for dogs. It had to be for another purpose, but what?

As he thought this, however, the dark knight got a sudden surprise. Something sounded like it was "firing up" from nearby…something electronic. Sort of the sensation one gets when they hear a computer monitor come on or other electronic that doesn't have an "obvious" motor noise. Immediately, he pulled his hand back as he realized what it was coming from…the suit itself. Yet he was beginning to suspect it wasn't a suit at all as he heard that...

And he got confirmation a moment later when the headpiece moved up slightly…before one of the arms reared up and shot out, smashing into his face.

Normally the dark knight could have reacted to such a blow, but he was caught off guard and the suit, although big and bulky, moved fast. A rather powerful smack hit him in the head and sent him toppling back, nearly striking him with enough force to get him off of his feet, between the surprise and the power. Somehow, he managed to quickly right his legs underneath him, and then snapped straight to face the open crate.

The "suit" was moving now. Flexing its joints, and giving just the hint of a mechanical "whirr" as it did so, it stepped out of the box and began to advance on Batman.

The vigilante watched it for a moment, trying to plan a move of his own. After having been blindsided by it once, he wasn't eager to start attacking until he knew more about it. However, he did notice one thing. The blow that he had sustained, hard as it was, was heavily padded. It was like being struck during a training course by a boxing glove rather than a fist…or even a padded baton.

Luckily, he had plenty of time to plan. The suit moved slowly, giving Batman time to study it. He really wasn't positive what he was looking at right now. It could have been a man inside, but he doubted the crate would be sealed if that was the case. It was more likely some sort of automation drone…a robot, although he had to admit he hadn't seen the like in recent history…or knew of any developers in his own company or anywhere else that put out a model like this. Yet it didn't seem aggressive…in spite of the speed…

With that in mind, Batman dashed forward and tried to aim a hit to the knee joint from the side. If it was a machine, there was a good chance this would do nothing, even considering his strength.. But if it wasn't, this should be over immediately. The suit did "react" to him as he approached, bringing up a fist or whatever it had to try and bring down on top of him as he neared. Yet it wasn't in time to keep him from hitting the region. Unfortunately, his first theory seemed correct. Although his kick sank in, it left no impact. He was a bit puzzled, however. He expected his blow to recoil more…but it actually took most of the power…

So much, in fact, that he didn't spring back as fast as he hoped. The fist came down and, in spite of his attempt to fall back, he still took a glancing blow to the side of the fact that snapped his head down and nearly made him topple over. Again, he managed to keep his balance, but he was stunned for a moment and, in that moment, the machine tried to grapple him, reaching its arms out to seize him. Quickly, he countered by kicking out again, this time meaning to either deflect the machine or force himself away from it. To his surprise, neither happened. Not only did the machine seem to shrug off his kick, but it was like kicking a pile of pillows. It absorbed his whole hit…and he nearly got caught as a result as the machine managed to reach him and start putting its arms around him…

He definitely didn't want to risk getting grabbed by this thing, but with his kick deadened, he was hardly in a good position to launch himself away. So, instead, he did the next best thing…let himself fall to the ground. A bit ungraceful…but it was effective as the arms closed over him. Once down in a crouch, he quickly flipped himself backward, rolling back along the floor and getting some distance. Luckily for him, it took the machine a moment to recover on realizing it had failed to seize him.

Batman took the moment to go for his belt. He wasn't going to get very far trying to fight this thing "hand-to-hand". A moment later, his hand snapped back out with a palm sized device, colored black. Normally he used these for group stunning. Against a single opponent, it might actually be lethal. However, he believed he could "risk it" in this situation as he was sure his opponent was artificial. As the suit rose again, he pressed a button on the top and flung it straight at the enemy, quickly sweeping his own cape in front of him for a shield.

A moment later, the blast went off. Normally this worked as a concussive blast, to be thrown in the midst of a large group of opponents and slam them around from the force. Taking it head on would be enough to put even Killer Croc on his back, and if it wasn't for the type of rigid fabric that made up the cloth of his cape it would have blown him over as well, or at least forced him to "take the blast". Yet when this explosive went off on contact with the suit, all it successfully made it do was stop in its tracks and put a foot behind it. When the blast rang out and died down, Batman lowered his cape slightly, and saw that the surface was "rippling", like a stone thrown into water might leave. Yet it was already moving on him again even as the ripples died down, barely stalled.

The dark knight quickly backed away from it, but he realized as he backed away further than before…the suit "picked up speed". In spite of seeming slow and ungainly at first, it quickly moved in a rapid gait when Batman got too far. It was only when he slowed down a moment later, allowing it to catch up a bit, that it slowed down once again. Seeing this, he realized that it definitely had "ranged" behavior. Once it got close enough to nearly make a lunge or keep someone from getting around it, it didn't bother moving again. At any rate, he knew now that the outer coating of this suit was trouble. It didn't even have debris lodged in the tough fabric, meaning it had to be close to the strength of Kevlar. Yet as he stopped to try and think of a new solution, he noted the suit widened its arms and dove for him again, forcing him to backpedal to avoid it once more. This time, however, he noticed something else. He was being forced back "directionally"; the lunge of the machine moving him away from the exit and more toward the interior. It was trying to keep him from escaping. Not only that, but once out of range, it rose and then quickly dashed up to him again. It was maintaining that short distance…not giving him much time to think of a solution… Probably too little for a normal individual.

Luckily, Batman was a bit sharper than that. He may have only had a second, but that was all he needed to go for his belt again, pulling out a smaller device than the previous one. This one was a capsule. Unfortunately, he hadn't really planned on needing this sort of device this evening. He only had the one, so he had to make sure it landed in a vital spot. Not easy considering the fact that he couldn't tell if the suit, seeming more than likely to be a robot now, had "vitals" in the head or chest. Either was a possibility…although most robot designers he had encountered had, for one reason or another, been disposed to place the CPU within the head region like it would be in a "real human".

A moment later, his wrist snapped out, flinging the capsule with perfect accuracy right for the middle of the head. Even if this wasn't the CPU location, it should blind it, after all. His aim was good enough and the suit bulky enough that it smashed right on target, breaking open and splashing the entire facial region and nape with liquid. Almost immediately, a "crinkling" sound went out at the fluid rapidly depressurized and supercooled, soon covering the face of the individual with frost followed by ice. It actually stunned it, and Batman used the moment to quickly grab one more item from his belt…this one a touch of plastique. Just a piece about the size of a piece of gum, normally used for heavy doors, but it would suffice. Quickly, the dark knight darted forward and launched a jab right in the midst of the ice. It made contact…and a moment later shattered, immediately annihilating the fabric, having been turned from soft and pliable to hard and brittle. As he thought, as the fragments spilled off of its face, what was left behind was a metal shell with optical sensors. His other hand snapped forward, pushing the two "halves" of the plastique together to activate it before slapping it on the middle of the machines head, then quickly darted away.

A moment later, a powerful, loud, piercing explosion slammed into the machine's head. Batman could hear the sound of metal grinding, but he got a nasty shock as well. Not only did the machine barely stumble in its step before advancing, it soon cleared the fire and black smoke…revealing that although its optics were destroyed and a large hole was in the middle of its head, it was still functional. Apparently, he had been wrong. Not only was this one with a chest-mounted CPU…but also hidden eyes. Those two lenses had been dummies. It could still see him perfectly. He found that out the hard way a moment later when it managed to get on him and put his arms around him, catching him in a bear hug.

Immediately, the machine tightened into a crushing grip. A bit to the dark knight's surprise, the arms seemed to lengthen a bit and curl around him more than at the joints. He realized it was acting like a constrictor, especially when a moment later his arms were being forced to his sides and it attempted to start squeezing the air out of his lungs. He struggled to hold against it…but even someone as strong as him couldn't last that long against a machine. Besides…he soon found that the outside of it was vibrating. The end result seemed to "deflect" any force he tried to focus against it, at least where he tried to push back… It rapidly began to overtake him, constricting tighter and tighter…

Batman's teeth clenched as he tried to think of something. Without his hands free, he couldn't get to his belt for anything else, but he was getting "dry" as it was. The way he was seized he couldn't get any leverage, but even if he could the machine was too large to try and unbalance. And in spite of all of his struggling, it only grew tighter and tighter around him. He was losing the ability to slow it down. It was beginning to get painful on his arms. It might even get tight enough to break them before making him asphyxiate…

Finally, he could think of only one option. He had a few other gadgets available to him, but not many. Yet there was one he hoped still worked… With that in mind, he looked ahead to the hollowed out "skull" of the machine in front of him, still having the metal remains of most of the headpiece. With that in mind, he grunted, and then drove his head forward in a headbutt. It didn't try to do damage…just make contact.

As soon as he did, he shouted.

"Cowl taser override!"

His own suit let off just the smallest beep to signify it had accepted the voice command, and then immediately discharged a 5,000 volt taser charge designed normally to counter any thug who tried to unmask him in the off event that he was knocked unconscious. Normally, the sensors wouldn't arm it unless the dark knight's engram had gone flat in the consciousness regard, but now with the override activated it unleashed a powerful charge into the metal of the machine, traveling down into the "true" CPU. As a result, the constriction halted immediately. There was a chance it still would have held him during the "hiccup", but apparently whoever built the machine made it release in this mode. Probably to avoid a malfunction.

Quickly, as the arms loosened, Batman broke free and snapped back, getting some distance on the machine. By now, unfortunately, it had managed to move around to place itself close to blocking the way out. He could possibly run by it, but that probably wasn't the best move he could make. Besides…Batman didn't want to just "run" from this machine. Dangerous as it was, it was his only clue a the moment. Still, he couldn't give it long to recover from that. Even the taser charge only seemed to stun it for a moment. However, he had one other move up his sleeve. One of the empty metal shelves was poised nearby, next to the "water area" for access to the harbor directly. Unlike the kind used for the warehouse cargo, this one seemed like it had just been for tools and oil for ship servicing. It had to weigh a good amount…but it was currently void of tools with a high center of gravity.

With that in mind, Batman quickly snatched up his grapple gun from his belt and fired it off at the recovering machine. His shot wasn't one of his best, but he managed to get it to anchor itself onto one of the legs, getting the claw to grasp tight against the soft surface. Luckily, it wasn't relying merely on "piercing" but on pinching. With the tool attached, he quickly twisted his end around to the metal shelf and wedged it into a junction of the metal framing. Following that, before the machine could take two steps forward, his foot raised and gave a kick to it. It was too heavy to fall right away, but gravity went to work on it immediately, and soon it was toppling over right into the harbor. The machine, seeming to not be programmed to notice this, was oblivious as the entire heavy metal structure went over the edge. A moment later, it yanked out the machine's leg right from underneath it. The humanoid suit actually raised its arms in either alarm or a vain attempt to stop itself before it was yanked to the floor and dragged off the edge and into the bay's water. It sank easily like a stone, plunging inside and vanishing from view almost instantly.

Batman took a moment to steady himself with a deep breath or two. His arms were still sore…although the constriction hadn't had a chance to impact his ribs. But he didn't stay "idle" long. He quickly moved to the edge of the water and looked down. He couldn't see much, unfortunately. Gotham Harbor was far too polluted and dirty for that. Even his visor wouldn't be able to see into the muck. However, he waited a moment none the less, being cautious. For all he knew, the machine would attempt to get out again. Although he doubted it could swim, he figured something as well-built as that would try and "come back" if it could. Yet as the seconds ticked by and slowly gave way to minutes…nothing of the sort happened. The water slowly calmed, and then went still save for the motion of the outdoors. Apparently, with that much damage to its exterior, ruining any "sealant" it might have, it could only operate so well being submerged. It had likely shorted out.

With that in mind, the dark knight eased up a bit. He definitely wanted a piece of that machine now, even though it would mean hoisting out the Batmobile's winch to get it. Even without analyzing it directly, he had seen quite a few surprising things from it. Remarkably, he wasn't bruised or too permanently "hurt" from where that machine had struck him. The same material that absorbed all of his own attacks seemed to deaden its own impact against him. And this machine seemed built for direct blows and "grappling". Every move he made against it was designed so that Batman would put his full force against it rather than rebound. And that substance around it… He could have sworn it was similar to what modern straight jackets used…

_A machine designed not to kill their opponent so much as "tire them out"…_ He mused.

And from Latvia as well.

Things were getting more interesting…and Batman was beginning to wonder if this was neither something as "simple" as a mass breakout _or_ a group attempt at revenge…

* * *

_To be continued..._


	2. Where the Dead Go

Lionel Gorman reached the printer before it was done. The "all-in-one" in the Arkham Asylum security wing was so slow that even though he had taken his time after hitting "print" in his office and got up to walk down the hall to the side room containing it, it was still giving off a loud hum and spitting out the first page on arrival. He had to stand there and wait for the second to come out. But at last, both had been produced. He took up both sheets and looked them over for a moment.

If there had been anyone still in the branch at this time of night and not already on duty patrolling the halls, twice as earnestly after the last breakout, they would have seen that this document was clearly in letter format. It wasn't "private", necessarily, but Gorman wasn't ready to reveal it yet. He'd be leaving it on his desk shortly before he went home for the day…forever, he supposed. After making sure it had printed cleanly enough, he turned and exited the small "copy room" and looked down the hall back toward the office of Head of Security. It actually had several names on it, as it was a shared office that fell to whoever was currently there, including his own. He went ahead and reached up to remove the magnetic tab that had his name on it on arrival, before opening the door and walking in.

Almost immediately, he noted that the lights were out. A look of confusion came across his face, clearly not remembering turning off the lights…but he moved to hold the door open anyway as he went in, intending only to leave the letter on his desk, after all…

As soon as he was in, however, the door shut behind him and clicked. The lights came on a moment later, freezing Gorman in place…but not nearly as much as the object on his desk.

A ruined metal head with shreds of padding around it and a large, burning hole through the center; all soaked in foul-smelling lake water.

A dark voice spoke behind him.

"Forget to take your 'package' home with you, Mr. Gorman?"

The head of security snapped around, dropping his papers as he did so, and recoiled as he saw the tall and imposing figure of a man in a black cape and cowl, glaring at him with burning eyes that seemed to blaze in the darkness, blocking the only way out. He said nothing more. He merely stared at him motionlessly, almost like a dark statue.

A moment passed, and then the man swallowed. He straightened himself up and calmed. "…I don't know anything about what you're talking about, but if it's an admission of ineptitude you're looking for like the police and the rest of the Arkham staff, then you'll get it tomorrow along with everyone else." He pointed to the floor. "My letter of resignation."

"I'm afraid you won't be getting off so easily." Batman responded as he took a step into the room. Gorman, in turn, backed up a step, but managed to keep most of his composure. "That head there came from a machine in a set of eight crates…one for each escapee from Arkham. The shipping labels may have been destroyed, but eight refrigerator-sized crates from Latvia isn't exactly 'commonplace'. I already looked up the record in local private shipping companies. While the address of origin may have been confidential, and 'whoever' paid for their delivery may have used cash, they also had to sign, and they did…'Lionel Gorman'."

The man hesitated on hearing this, but still didn't show much emotional change.

"That's not all." The dark knight continued. "An 'associate' of mine called me not one hour ago having tracked a boating company that was _also_ paid in cash discretely by what they could only say was a high-ranking employee of Arkham for certain. After some 'prodding', they further admitted they had parked here last night, accepted a load of 'eight human-sized bundles that looked like they were moving', and dropped them off the same place where that head was found."

The man stiffened a bit, but other than that still no change.

"Last but not least, there was only one person out of the sixteen on staff yesterday who could have had easy access to the hashes to the security cameras, and the police should be getting the tip off right about now to look for evidence of doctoring." The eyes narrowed. "You're looking at more than 'disgraceful resignation', Mr. Gorman. You're looking at five to ten for aiding and abetting a mass escape from Arkham Asylum."

Gorman was silent. He stared back at the dark knight for a long time. Batman immediately noticed something, however. He wasn't reacting like the typical 'rat in a trap', for sure, but that wasn't anything new. Yet neither was he acting like the traditional 'stand-up guy' who managed to keep a straight face in moments like this. To be honest, he wasn't really acting like anything. He just stared at him, as if thinking over everything he said. Furthermore, as more time went on, more and more of his earlier 'fear of the Bat' seemed to ebb, until he was almost normal.

Finally, he did react. Closing his eyes, he let out a slow exhale that sounded almost like a sigh.

"Bitter irony…going to prison for 'aiding' those eight…" He muttered aloud. His eyes opened a moment later. "So be it. I didn't think I could keep you or the police off of me for even _this_ long, to be honest. So long as it's too late, I don't care. Alright…" He drew himself up a bit more. "I did it. I doctored the cameras. I paid for the shipment of those crates to that warehouse. It was my job to secure the boat as well. After that, I just looked the other way. Is that what you want to hear from me?"

"I want to hear why you helped them escape and where they're at." Batman retorted.

Almost to the dark knight's surprise, although he didn't show it, the man actually flashed a dark smile of his own. "Escape? Heh…hardly. The 'law' can send me to jail for that if they like, but I assure you…I did _not_, in any way, shape, or form, provide those eight with an 'escape'."

Batman's eyes narrowed. "…And who did? You mentioned 'my job'. I take it that means there were multiple Arkham employees in on this."

"So what if there was?" Gorman spoke back, almost challengingly.

Again, Batman was a bit surprised at the boldness, but kept up his end. "You were all working together, and you all had a common cause. You all had vendettas of one form or another. You also had ties to a man in Latvia."

Hearing that last part actually showed a visible change in the man. For just a moment, he blanched. That was something, it seemed, he didn't count on Batman or the police finding out. However, it faded just as quickly…the sign of someone mentally reassuring himself: "One person…meaningless by itself."

"I can assume you were all out for revenge against these inmates, but if you wanted to simply kill them, you would have had more than ample opportunity to try while they were locked up in here. Yet you smuggled them out instead, didn't you? Where are they?"

Gorman's smile actually grew a bit.

"…Wouldn't _you_ like to know."

His smile disappeared a moment later when he was seized by the uniform shirt, swung around, and smashed rather hard into the wall of the office. In a moment, he found himself suspended a foot off the ground as the fists of the dark knight tightened audibly. His burning eyes were soon a lot closer as he got in his face.

"Not the best answer you could come up with." He stated coldly.

However, his "intimidation" didn't work as well as he hoped this time. In fact, Gorman soon scowled as he glared right back at him.

"What are you going to do, huh? Smack me around? Dangle me outside a window? Threaten my life? End up turning me over to the cops so they can slam me with a prison sentence for helping to orchestrate a mass kidnapping? Nail me with worse than that once you _do_ find out what happened to those eight? Have me spend twenty behind bars and never see my wife again?"

Then, Gorman did something Batman didn't expect in the least.

He spat in his face.

"You make me _sick_." He sneered. "You and every last cop in this damn town who couldn't just take one of those godless, evil freaks into a back alley, put a slug in their heads, and then just say 'they tried to run for it'. You're not going to scare me. You are the _last_ damn person on _Earth_ I'll let myself be scared of. Not after I had a goddamn mortician call me up at 2 AM in the morning…" He changed the pitch of his voice slightly. "'Mr. Gorman, I'm sorry to wake you up so late, but we need permission to cut your son's facial muscles. You see…that 'venom' he uses makes them lock unless they're cut. We'll cover up the incisions. You won't know the difference.'" He glared even more fiercely, almost madly, at Batman at that. "Do you have _any_ idea what it's like to have to tell someone to mutilate your own son's corpse so that the twisted freak could 'have a good laugh'?! How many more kids died after that, huh?! How many more men had to stop their wives from slashing their own f***ing wrists a month later?! You can go to Hell, just like they did! And if I had the power I'd send _you_ with them!"

Batman was silent. He showed nothing, and he never did. No matter how many people ranted or raged or raved at him no matter what. He merely held the man against the wall for a moment of silence. Gorman continued to glare fiercely back at him, as if he was nearly mad himself. His teeth were clenched and his face was red. Yet as he held on…he began to see his eyes start to water. A moment later, and in spite of his furious, hateful look…tears began to run down his cheeks. Nevertheless, he held where he was.

Without a word, Batman took a step back and let go of the man. He slumped to the ground in a heap. Even if he had been ready for it, he wouldn't have held himself. He collapsed like a broken doll and sat there. Only staying upright because he wasn't against the wall.

A moment later, Batman turned and began to leave the room. He paused only long enough to take up the headpiece of the machine. He left Gorman in the silence and darkness of the office.

Only when he exited and finally wiped the spit off of his cowl did he hear Gorman's sobbing become audible.

* * *

Alfred Pennyworth held a small "tote basket" with him as he descended the long, stone staircase. He would have much preferred if Master Bruce would allow him to just keep a "supply closet" in the Batcave, but he supposed that whenever he had "special guests" over it would not be good for his image if they were to open a side compartment and find nothing but basic ammonia glass cleaner, pressurized air, and bleaching wipes. He still remembered how paranoid he had been three years ago when he found that the butler had left his feather duster there while he had the Flash over… Nevertheless, he expected some "peace" this morning as he intended him to be gone all night through the next day, so he figured getting an early start to tidying up the Batcave would be a good bet.

Therefore, as he came down the last few steps and turned the final bend, minding a few of the local "residents" taking off and squealing (he did so hate to clean up after _them_…although he found club soda worked well on guano stains), his eyebrows lifted slightly on seeing Master Bruce in full regalia within the lab section, hunched over one of the electron microscopes. The Batcomputer was fully active and showing off detailed molecular information in addition to close ups of the view he was receiving, although he seemed to want to see it himself.

"Two nights in a row, sir?" Alfred stated as he came down, moving for the usual corner where he set his supplies, and put them down. "Somewhat of a counter-intuitive strategy to what I'm accustomed to in dealing with numerous escapees…but I can hardly argue with the effectiveness considering the latest news report is still of a quiet Gotham City."

"Assuming they're still _in_ Gotham, Alfred." Batman answered.

"Really?" The butler answered as he got out the pressurized air can. "Do you really think they fled the country this time?"

"They may not be in the country…but they didn't leave by choice." The dark knight answered as he adjusted a dial on his microscope. "The more I find out about this breakout, the stranger this case becomes. At first I concluded like the police did, that it was just another mass breakout. Then I started to wonder if it was more along the lines of a revenge scheme, based on the history of the people supervising the inmates. That would have been unusual enough…but now I'm starting to wonder if it was even _that_ simple."

He switched off the view and looked up from the microscope as Alfred went over to the keypad of the Batcomputer and started to spray under the keys. He was paying attention, just doing his duty at the same time.

"I interrogated Lionel Gorman last evening. I realized I wasn't going to get much out of him, but from what he leaked multiple individuals were involved in this. However, based on his wording…I don't think this was just an attempt to take these eight out of the city limits and execute them. This was more revenge-minded…something designed to make them suffer, I'm guessing."

Alfred again raised an eyebrow. "Really? Yet all of them remained in Arkham, so they didn't get revenge themselves. Could they have been hired by someone who had a greater desire than them?"

"Or someone exploiting _their_ desire for revenge." Batman answered. "Apparently…someone who has access to a great deal of scientific know-how. Remember the drug sample I brought in the other night?"

The butler gave a nod. "Yes. The one that was supposed to be standard tranquilizers from Arkham Asylum, as I recall."

"It was more than that on further analysis." Batman responded. He gestured to one of the readouts of the computer. Alfred looked, and saw in addition to large spherical units that made up the drugs that were normally powdered inside the capsules, there were numerous smaller beads as well…with the readout making them translucent. "Microscopic particles were mixed in with the drugs in some sort of enteric coating. It was extremely non-viable. It eroded so quickly that I estimate only about 0.1% of the original contents survived to the point where I took them as a sample. It explains why it was so hard to find. What I found inside was interesting…a virus."

Alfred immediately turned to him. "A virus? Good heavens…does that mean-"

"Don't worry." The dark knight cut off. "It's even less viable than the coating. It can't even survive airborne. Hence why whoever wanted the inmates of Arkham to get it had to trick them into ingesting it."

"But what does it do?" Alfred responded.

In response, Batman turned in his chair to the adjoining table in the lab, opposite the microscope. Alfred took only a moment to finish spraying before he began to move over to that table. As he neared, he saw that two small specimen cages were out, either one holding a single white mouse. The one on the left was acting pretty much like any lab mouse would, sniffing around, standing on its hind legs to see if it could find an out, moving about and occasionally cleaning its fur. The one on the right, however, was sprawled out with eyes closed, not moving but still breathing.

He came to a stop at a good viewing distance and looked them over.

"I must say…it _is_ rather what I expected."

"Perhaps not." Batman answered. "I infected the one on the right with the virus four hours ago. Until three hours ago, it was just as active as the one on the left. After that, I gave it a few trace amounts of a sedative that both had built up an immunity to weeks ago when I was testing them out for a separate project. The one on the left is still fine…the one on the right, clearly not."

"It enhances the effects of drugs?" Alfred asked.

"Not directly. What it does, it seems, is knocks out the body's ability to manufacture proteins that bring drug tolerance." The dark knight explained. "The end result is even a regular drug that they had been taking regularly would have knocked them out. I'm guessing even Poison Ivy and the Joker would be capable of being drugged if this was the case. The question is why someone would go to all the effort to drug them. They obviously wanted them 'out of action' for longer than it would take to get them to a secure place in Gotham. And whoever _did_ do this obviously had access to some research or was someone well versed in virology to begin with. Which brings me to what I found in the shore warehouse…"

He turned in his chair again. Alfred followed his gaze, and soon both were looking at a table with the soggy remains of the machine from earlier. What had survived intact had been mostly "dissected" and analyzed by Batman at this point, but a number of "reverse engineered" schematics were already displayed as well as the intricacies of the machine.

"Even without the analysis, I already could guess what this drone was for." He stated. "The CPU was somewhat 'common' black market stock. One of many cheap AIs that could do fairly menial labor tasks that were put out by defunct Eastern European and Asian companies. In this case…restraining. It's the machinery that's the 'big' part. The entire chassis is lined with miniaturized shock absorbers built at the nanite level, in additional to larger scale vibrators and elastic systems. Its body is overlain with an expensive Kevlar variant that was designed to allow quicker recovery time on people wearing vests made out of it by taking more of the 'punch' out of the bullet. Now, however, I think it's been adapted for battery. Plus the servos and weight distribution emphasizes 'anchoring' into the ground to avoid being able to flip or push over."

"It sounds like quite a durable machine...I think." Alfred responded. "Ideal for crowd control."

"Not just crowd control. It kept trying to grapple and seize me when I fought it. The lenses on its head were false targets. The blows I struck took more out of me than it. In other words…this machine was designed for someone to 'rage' against it, get tired out, and then get restrained by it. Even when it's immobilizing someone it's designed to have them waste as much power as possible going against it. The end result is for the opponent to be exhausted and have the 'fight' taken out of them, so to speak."

Alfred mused over this for a moment. "Sounds almost like an 'external straight jacket'…sort of the same principle behind a padded cell."

"Exactly…which brings me back to the tip Oracle gave me…and the name 'Klaudius Labdaris'. She said he was a psychologist that had fallen out of governmental and public favor. Perhaps he adapted these machines, having them originally used for restraining wild patients."

"Well, he certainly picked the right kind of patient for him if he's behind all this." Alfred responded. "It sounds as if you have a good suspect."

"Unfortunately, no." Batman answered, turning back to the microscope, but looking beyond to the computer. "Between the part of the world where he did the bulk of his work, him operating in regions with little contact beyond spoken word and old landed lines, and his apparent 'dislike' for public exposure, I've found little, just like Oracle has found little. Even the accreditations he received were from institutions that had just recently 'upgraded' past being pure 'apprenticeship' institutions to actually recognized at the national level. Any education he received had to have been mostly self-taught. The computer has been trying to compile any record of him or any other Latvian-background individuals coming to Gotham City, but my guess is that would have been a private flight, and so far none happened within the window of the past few days. I'm expanding back further in time, but even if I find something that only would point me to Labdaris, not where the eight inmates are."

"If I may ask, sir," The butler continued as he moved over to the keyboard. "Do you think now might be a good time to notify the police about these changes in events? Perhaps this should be turned from a 'manhunt' to a 'kidnapping' case, as it were."

"This wouldn't be the first time someone thought revenge would be 'clear cut' against these people." The dark knight answered. "The one who is likely in danger, if anyone, is Labdaris. I wouldn't trust any one person or group to even be able to get revenge against the Joker, let alone all eight of them together. Still…this isn't going to be an easy one. There's nothing 'obvious'. I have only the other Arkham workers as leads, and if they 'clam up' like the first one did, this isn't going to get very far."

He hesitated a moment, leaning forward a bit, raising his arms and balancing on the table so he could prop his head up.

"That look in Lionel Gorman's eyes last night, Alfred…" He said after a moment. "The way he talked… I'd seen it before. I knew exactly what was on his mind." He paused. "I saw it a lot for a good twenty years of my life."

Alfred said nothing. He merely stood and waited.

"It's been almost two decades…but sometimes I still think back to almost the beginning." He went on. "That night with the Reaper. I think about where I'd be if he had been just three seconds slower. To this day…I don't know what I should feel about that night that he shot first. Angry…or relieved." He paused again, and then turned to him.

"You were there by my side the whole time. You even cleaned and reloaded the guns I practiced with." A pause. "If I had gone through with it…would you have stayed here? Knowing what I did?"

"Let me pose a 'counter-question' to that, Master Bruce." Alfred calmly responded. "When you think back to that young man that you saw, I presume, whenever you looked into a mirror, with that fire in his eyes, and that almost single-minded obsession?"

Batman paused for a long while. His head turned away.

"…I think I see a confused, reckless, unthinking young man who should have thought harder about what he was getting into, and what he wanted to become, before he put on that mask."

"And I agree wholeheartedly." The butler calmly responded. "But I like to think I know a thing or two about what it means to be a brash, reckless young man. And what it means to have faith in such a young man that he will 'mature' if you give him a little time and breathing room, rather than try to bar him outright. Even if I hadn't made a promise to two old friends years earlier, I wasn't about to let you see it through to the end, no matter your choice, alone."

In spite of his thoughts, the dark knight managed a hint of a smile. "I also wish some nights that there were more people like you and less like me in the world."

"Well, I'm afraid we _do_ live in a rather undisciplined age, sir." Alfred drolly answered before turning to get the ammonia cleaner. "I suppose I should be thankful. It means I'm worth more on the market, as it were."

Batman let out a single chuckle before turning back to his work. It was getting late, or early, yet again, but he wanted to see if there was yet time to shake down at least one of the other Arkham workers before dawn…

* * *

Harvey Dent felt like he had just gotten back from a night out of drinking. It had all the signs, after all. His mouth was dry as a bone, his head was pounding like someone was hitting it with a hammer, he felt nauseated, and, most of all, he did not wake up in a bed but on something cold and hard. In fact, he wasn't sure the "night" was "over" based on where he woke up. For what greeted his eyelids was darkness like night, and where he was at felt cold, wet, and bare.

Letting out a grunt, he forced his eyes open, trying to remember how he had gotten there while simultaneously trying to get a grasp on where "there" was. He saw little. Cracking open his eyes only gave him more darkness, save for a dim red light, very faint and very small. He grunted again, blinking a few times as he looked around, but all he could make out in the dim light was stone walls. Old ones. _Very_ old. They were put up with mortar, and looked as if each one had been hand-hewn. The stone itself seemed almost black…or perhaps that was just the effect of the light. They were wet in places, and the area was cool. He noticed the floor he was on was flatter, but also made out of stone and mortared together.

Definitely not Arkham, which was the last place his recovering mind could remember.

He got his hands underneath him and began to push himself off the ground. Only on doing so did he realize just how cold he was. He was clad in rather thin clothes, and when he looked down over them…he realized they weren't the clothing they issued to patients at Arkham. This was far more threadbare. Other than covering essentials, it was practically good for nothing. And being pressed against the cold floor had numbed him after a while, but on putting fresh skin on it he realized just how cool it was. In spite of his splitting head and feeling a little weak, he swallowed his nausea and looked around.

As the stone had indicated by its existence, he was in a room…or a cell. A rather blank one as well. About the size of a standard prisoner's cell with not so much as one "frill" like a light bulb. The door looked like it was solid steel. A bit rusted on the outside, but effective none the less, he supposed from the look of it. There were only three items in the chamber with him. A lit candle, which was providing the only light in the room…a tin pot, which, even though he was no medieval historian, he could guess the purpose of…

And a tape recorder.

An old one from the 1980s, but it seemed functional at first glance.

Harvey looked over it for a moment, but then ignored it entirely. He instead focused on getting up. It wasn't easy. He felt like a slug, his body protesting and refusing to work. Even when he did rise, he felt a bit "wobbly" and weak-kneed. Yet he pushed through it. He had woken up in worse places under worse circumstances. He went straight for the iron door. It was a bit hard to get a good look on it as he blocked the candle's light, but he noticed there was a portal on it. It was shut from the other side, however. A moment later, he tried to find a handle, but didn't locate one. And it could only swing open from the outside. Old as this cell was, the seam was pretty flush with the wall. No chance of opening it, especially if it was latched or locked.

_Where in the hell is this?_ He thought at this point. _And how the hell did I get here? This sure ain't Arkham. Even if they still had cells in the places that look like this, there's no way they'd use them. What happened to me?_

Harvey tried to think, but only came up with what he did last back at Arkham. He had just leaned back with his two papers for the evening…a copy of the Wall Street Journal and a local racing form. He had been expecting the nightly medication soon and had already flipped for it, and elected to be "good" this evening and take it without any troub-

_Wait…my coin!_

Immediately, the man went for his new "pants"…only to find no pockets. Cursing, he looked back to where he lay, and actually moved over there and began to search the ground as best as he could. But to no avail. His coin was gone.

Harvey took a moment to curse no less than the seven "bad" words, many of them more than once, before he seized the tape recorder, the only object that was capable of being damaged, and nearly smashed it into the wall. Yet before he could, he managed to catch himself. He looked back to it, and noticed, as expected, there was a tape inside. Obviously whoever had brought him here, and however he got here, they wanted him to listen to it and get some idea of what was going on.

He hesitated, and looked around himself again. It didn't take a genius to realize that this wasn't Arkham-affiliated or some therapy session being held by his moronic doctors. This was something different…and he had a feeling not nearly as pleasant. He might not have been intimidated easily…in spite of the fact he realized this wasn't exactly a promising spot to be in…but there was no sense in taking an unnecessary risk in not knowing more. With that in mind, he calmed and held the tape recorder in front of him. After staring a moment, he reached out and pressed play. He didn't know how many years it had been since he listened to one of these, but it brought back nostalgia to hear the click, the whir, and, after a moment, a voice.

The voice in question sounded rather old, withered, and perhaps even a bit weak from age. Yet the tone behind it was calm, measured, and slow…like a man who had rehearsed this hundreds of times and was now executing a "perfect" sequence of events…

_"__Good morning, sir. If most adults see a toddler reaching for an open flame, they yank their hand away and tell them to beware as if the toddler could comprehend cause and effect, or conceptualize consequences. I, on the other hand, prefer to let the child singe himself once and let the fire 'be the teacher'. Ruminate upon that as you go through our 'ice breaker' exercise for your time here in Sheol."_

The tape clicked. It was over.

Harvey had all of half a second to ponder what this meant…when the door before him clicked and swung open just enough for him to easily open it the rest of the way.

He nearly dropped the tape recorder in surprise, looking up to the opening. Immediately, he put the device down and pressed to one side, assuming someone would come in that he could ambush. Yet a few moments passed after this, and nothing happened. The door remained as it was. Harvey remained cautious, but eventually broke and decided to check it out himself. Slowly, he crept up to the door and placed his hand on it. He held a moment, and then pried it open more. Only a little at first, so that he could look outside.

Nothing on the other side…at least, not in terms of any person. Instead, he saw a circular chamber, which had various other doors just like the one to his own cell. It was reasonable to assume that there were more cells in this chamber. He couldn't make out the total number or anything else, but the fact that he could see it at all was something. Just like a medieval dungeon, lamps for oil had been set up in periodic locations to provide illumination. Even so, they were intermittent and flickering so dim he couldn't make out much. He also heard movement outside, like someone moving around and feeling the walls, scuffling on the floor. A moment later, he saw the source…

A man in clothes similar to him, and yet bald; his body criss-crossed with scars that looked like someone was "counting time" with them.

Harvey grit his teeth, peeling back the flesh from his "bad" half. Out of all of the inmates in Arkham he could have seen stuck here with him, he had to see _him_: Zsasz. He hoped that there was someone else around here for him to kill. He'd rather not have to deal with trying to beat a lunatic off of him without a weapon… Yet the alternative was shutting himself in this cell again…and he didn't want that. He still didn't feel too good after getting here, and he had no idea what had happened to him while he was out. Who knew? Maybe if his assailant came after him, Zsasz could "have his fun" with him… Sighing, he reached out and grabbed the door, pulling it open.

Immediately, Zsasz snapped around to him, noticing the sound. Hardly able to be missed as much as the rusted door creaked. Yet Harvey himself got a much more shocking surprise when a face suddenly popped in front of his.

"Surprise! Happy birthday!"

The disfigured man's eyes bulged and he staggered back, nearly tripping and falling on the very candle he had in his cell. He was shocked for only a moment, before his brain recognized who had gotten in front of him. Even if he hadn't, his "ears" would have a moment later as he began to hear the same cackling he had heard countless nights in Arkham over the years when he was trying to sleep, prompting him to frown a bit as he got his feet underneath him and stood tall, facing the green-haired, pale-skinned, grinning man in front of him…

"Oh, Harvey…you have _no_ idea how long I'd been waiting to do that. I thought of doing it to old Zsasz over here, but popping out to scare a raving lunatic? That's just plain _crazy_."

Harvey merely grit his teeth at the man. "Is _this_ your latest twisted idea of a joke? Shoving me in a cell out of a horror picture and then yelling 'boo'?"

The lanky man drew himself up, waving a finger at him. "Now you ought to know better than that. If _I_ was to knock you out, take you out of your cell, and ship you into some dark forgotten hole to rot, I'd be a bit more creative than this. I'd probably bury you alive with a box of matches so that you'd use up your oxygen trying to see where you were, for example. Plus, dungeons aren't exactly my taste. I'm afraid Zsaszy and I are in the same boat as you. But that's not all!" He cheered at the end as he gestured to the other cells. "Seems we have _lots_ of company along for the ride!"

Harvey looked out and glanced about. Stepping a bit further, he soon noticed that the circular chamber he was in had four exits into dark, stone tunnels…but none of them were illuminated. There was only enough light to show that they were in this circular tunnel. Aside from that, there were eight separate doors. Four of them, including his, were already open.

"…So where's the fourth one?" He asked after a moment.

"Who knows? Maybe he had a case of gout and the atmosphere was giving him too much joint pain." The Joker answered with a shrug. "Curious as to who else has been invited on this little trip?"

Harvey didn't plan on answering, but a moment later a voice rang out from a cell.

"Ugh…another damn hole… I can't hear any of my babies…"

"Ah!" The pale-faced man exclaimed. "Is that a vision of loveliness I hear? Oh wait, that's just my echo, ha!"

A moment later, some clanging was heard on one of the doors. "How do I get out of this box?" A female voice nearly demanded.

"Use your imagination." Harvey snorted, not really caring whether or not she had a tape recorder in there. Yet as he said this, a clicking was heard from a cell nearby. Harvey turned to look, and soon saw the cell door swing open, allowing another figure dressed like him to walk out, although this one held himself up a bit more.

"Quite atmospheric, isn't our host?" Edward Nigma stated as he walked right out. "Yet obviously someone with some technological know-how in spite of using such antique tape recorders. These rusted cells have wireless locks that obviously responded to a frequency on our little 'introductory' messages."

"What did _yours_ say?" Harvey asked.

"Clearly a riddle designed to imply he's wanting us to try and escape so he can 'punish' us for doing so." Edward smoothly responded. "Hence why we're able to leave our cells and no guards are posted. Not exactly the smartest of folks if he's thinking letting all of us out together is a wise idea."

Another click soon rang out, causing everyone to turn again, this time to see a hawk-nosed, dark haired, twisted man come out of another cell. Most never saw him like this, but the Arkham inmates knew him all too well.

"If this was his best attempt to scare me, he's already wasting my time." Jonathan Crane muttered as he exited. "Other than being an unpleasant situation, and feeling sore for whatever happened to me, all it served to do was be annoying. His tape was an equally wasted effort."

"Oh, look who all showed up!" The Joker chimed, clasping his hands together in delight. "Why, with you three here, this quaint little hostel almost feels like home sweet home! Who could be behind our final door to make this all the more memorable?"

A moment later, a light female voice came from the final cell. "Puddin'? Is that you?"

The Joker's face fell. "…Oh. Harley's here too." He said in a disappointed voice. "I had my fingers crossed for the Ventriloquist."

"What was that?" The voice returned. "Get me out of here! I don't feel too good!"

"Whatever you do, don't press the button on that tape recorder, Harley!" He called back. "It will give you a nasty surprise!"

A moment later, one of the cells clicked. Soon after, the limping, dizzy-looking, green-skinned form of Pamela Lilian Isley came out, holding a hand to her head. "…Don't listen to him, Harley. Just play the tape recorder…" She muttered. Afterward, she gave them all a glare. "The rest of you can stand around listening to this psychopath make more of his lame jokes if you like…but if you don't mind I'll be doing something constructive like looking for a way out."

"I'd honestly rather look for our 'host'." Crane responded as he straightened out his attire a bit. "As grateful as I am for getting out of Arkham…this isn't how I expected it, and I would like to show him my 'appreciation'…"

"I'll pass for now." Harvey answered, rubbing his brow a bit. He still felt that chill about him and that weakness, after all. "I don't even have a knife, and I'm not about to go try getting him when he could have two dozen bodyguards with guns on him."

"I suppose I'll have to restrain myself a bit longer as well…"

The five looked to who had spoken, and found Zsasz finally tearing himself off the wall. He turned and looked to them with a rather hollow stare, his face tighten and seeming "leaner" than usual.

"These stones are perfect…not one shard capable of coming off… I'm not about to make myself 'unbalanced' even if I can throttle them…"

Nigma gave a short chuckle. "Well, it would be such a tragedy if you were 'put out', wouldn't it? I myself would prefer to look for an exit, but I'm assuming whoever put us in those cells is expecting us to do so based on the recording. Perhaps we should stay together, given the circumstances?

"Hey!" A shout came from nearby, before the door finally opened to the last unopen cell, causing a blond-haired woman in similar clothes as everyone else to run out. "You ain't gonna leave me behind, are you?"

"Ah, but Harley, you'd make the perfect diversion, my dear!" The Joker answered with a smile. "Just scream so loud in agony from whatever torture they put you in, and it will cover our escape perfectly!"

"Works for me." Harvey answered, ignoring the Joker and responding to Nigma. "If we come up on a guard with a gun, he can shoot some of you first and give me time to get in there and grab his weapon."

"How nice to know I'm so 'valued'." Nigma answered.

"Fine. I might as well for the time being." Crane added. "Especially since I'm feeling a bit under the weather after everything that happened…"

The Joker, at that, went over to Isley and patted her on the ass. "I guess it's decided. Lead the way, toots!"

"…You're lucky I know kissing you won't work." The woman hissed in response as she looked toward one of the dark halls. She soon began to walk toward it. "As for the rest of you, understand this…I'm only trying to get myself out. If you happen to follow me I'm in no shape to do anything about it, but don't forget I'm not 'helping' you."

"Well, if we're all quite sure we 'hate' one another, can we be off before some trap is sprung?" Nigma asked. "I'm sure there's security cameras all over the place watching this entire conversation…"

Harvey, on his part, didn't bother wasting any more time with chatter. In spite of what they "had in common", the seven of them were far from "partners". More like people who simply knew each other in the same "line of work", not to mention from the Asylum. He honestly wouldn't trust himself with any of them in a room alone. However, they _did_ have a common cause at the moment…and, right now, he was missing his coin. His ability to make decisions was impaired. He was even feeling a bit ill about it… That meant he was stuck with them, and so he followed.

The seven hadn't gone far before they realized this wasn't going to be easy. Each of the four hallways led only into darkness. They could feel out for the walls, but all they found was cold stone that was occasionally wet. It was impossible to see where they were going after a minute in the pitch blackness. A bit further than that, and Harvey suddenly felt the ones in front of him stop, forcing him to halt as well.

"What is it?" He called out.

"The path splits." Isley responded.

"You might call a warning next time?" Crane asked. "I don't want to risk touching you by running into you…"

"That's not my problem." She dully answered.

"So which way, red?" Harley asked.

A moment of silence went by.

"…Don't you _know_?" Harvey asked.

"I never claimed I had a 'sixth sense' about this." She hissed back. "I'm just trying to listen for my babies. I'm not hearing anything so far…"

"So you could be leading us into a booby trap." The scarred man sneered.

"I never said you _had_ to come."

"Oh, ease up, Harvey." The Joker answered. "Just keep a good distance and she'll set it off first, eh?"

He snorted and said no more. After a moment, however, Isley began to go off to the left. After letting her get a bit ahead, the others followed.

Unfortunately, this was by no means the only "turn". Just a short distance ahead, they began to run into other turns. Some of them were basic "ells". Others were forks like the ones they just ran into. Still others were four-way intersections, with halls opening to other side. But all of them stretched on into darkness…at least at first. After a while, they came to another glimpse of fiery light at a corner. But as they went up to it and looked around the corner that led to it…all that was there was a lamp on a wall adjacent to a closed door, with the hall going on in either direction.

"Hey look! Let's go that way!" Harley suggested. "I mean…whoever works here had to have 'left the light on' to get out, right?"

"Or maybe they'd like to lure us that way to spring whatever it is on us." Nigma answered.

"Now let's see…how does that 'Monty Hall' problem work?" The Joker mused. "You always take the one he _didn't_ take away or…"

"Quiet, all of you…" Isley said with a minor hiss. "I'm trying to listen, and I'm already getting a headache."

"Go right ahead." Nigma responded, pushing right by and going down the "lit" hallway. "Maybe I'm just inviting danger, but I don't suppose just opening the door and taking a peek inside will hurt."

"Clearly this man never saw the movie 'Saw'." The Joker muttered to the others.

"Can't very well shoot nails at me through a metal door, can they?" Nigma answered. At any rate, he soon reached the door. Once there, he moved off to one side, pressing himself against the masonry, and then reached over to grab the handle, give it a twist, and open it up a crack. He held a bit, but even before he looked in, the others could see there were lamps inside lit, giving a fiery glow. A moment later, he tentatively crept around the edge of the threshold and looked inside.

"Hmm." He answered. "Interesting…although I'd like to stay out of there if I could…"

"What did you find? Anything that can be used as a weapon?" Zsasz asked.

"Not 'easily'." Nigma answered. "Let's see… Chains… Live batteries with large electrodes… Primitive water cannons… What looks like a large 'mouse wheel'… And something that seems like a variation on a fictional 'Iron Maiden'. Well, it seems our host is well versed in torture…"

"Does that bring back memories?" The Joker chuckled. "Or give you all ideas?"

"Again, not too terribly frightening unless they actually can get you inside one of those." Crane answered. "But I share Mr. Zsasz's sentiment. Anything we can use?"

Nigma shut the door again. "Not unless you feel like prying something loose, and then it will be awkward. I'm feeling a bit sore myself… Definitely no blades…and it's not like I would tell _him_ that if there was."

Zsasz quivered a bit at that.

"This way." Isley spoke up. "I have no need for any weapons…"

Soon, she started walking again. Gradually, the others began to follow again, Harvey included.

This, however, was just the beginning. From then on in, they ran into periodic oil lamps in front of doors. Each one led to new varieties of torture devices, it seemed. Some were purely wood and iron. Others were more elaborate, seeming to rely on more "modern" technology. However, the entire place itself was a maze. A dark, black, bleak maze buried in a stone tomb. Occasionally there were stone stairs that went up, and others that went down. They found themselves forced to take both at times, but it always led to the same. Harvey assumed there were at least five different floors based on the stairs they encountered. To be honest, it was a little unnerving. It was silent as well as almost totally dark, and it was doing a number on Harvey from a mental standpoint. Messing up his "circadian rhythm" or whatever. As time ticked by, he lost track of how many turns they made or where. He honestly couldn't tell if they were going in circles or not. None of the paths had any rhyme or reason to them, and no way out…

That wasn't all, though. He found himself getting a bit "sore" as he moved along. He had no shoes. None of them did, and the floor was cold and hard. Nevertheless, his feet seemed to be getting tender quickly, as did his joints. They had a "weakness" to them. At first he thought it was the circumstance. But it didn't "work itself out" as time went on. Instead, it only got worse, until a light ache began to go through them. He was familiar with this sensation…a coming illness. Like a fever.

_Just great…all I need is to be sick down here…_ He thought.

A bit further, they reached the "worst" door yet. This was actually a set of two large metal doors, and they were already open. On seeing it, the seven moved up a bit slower. It seemed to be right in their path, after all, as if they were intended to go there. When they finally reached it, they all took a look inside…and saw something unusual.

It was a rather large room, but filled with old, twisted, rusty metal pipes. Not of the water variety. More like for a gasworks…and with good reason. There was a large empty area in the middle, but it traced itself to other entryways in the chamber. There were also a few primitive metal conveyers tracing to the middle. Scattered about were side chambers or valves and gauges, obviously to regulate the place. Yet what was framed in the center was what looked like a massive metal incinerator like one would find in an old crematorium. Maybe even bigger and more "industrial" than that. Yet the walls were fully transparent. They had to be made of some sort of industrial plexiglass. Plumes of fire lined the edges, casting about a fiery glow brighter than that of the lamps all about them. Obviously it was primed to run. There were also some doors and handles to allow cleanup of ash refuse.

"Now _that_ could make a ton of cookies…" The Joker whistled.

"I guess if we die here we don't have to worry about getting a burial plot…" Harvey muttered.

"Of course not…" Isley groaned. "Just stone around here… No soil… Not even a speck of moss… It's making me sick to my-"

She cut herself off, and the others responded in turn to the reason why. As they had been musing over this room, they still had a view of the end of the hall. And it was lit up with lamps as well at another large intersection. But more than that, as they watched, they saw a pair of men walk by, stand on either side of the archway, and calmly look to one another, talking a bit, perhaps, in low tones.

Their attire was black; some sort of uniform that looked tough, almost like thick leather. Not the kind that people wore for fashion or "kink", but practical. Durable. Designed to slough off a lot. Fairly close-fitting too, allowing them to show off their muscles in many spots. Not many loose items on them either. They had belts with a few things, but they looked buckled and secured with several clasps. Designed not to have anything that could be "torn off". No guns; just batons. Similar to how some of the guards at Arkham worked. These weren't Arkham workers, however. They looked taller, thicker, and "rougher".

Harvey raised an eye to them.

_Now we're getting somewhere…_ He thought.

He considered giving a call to move, although he hesitated as it might alert them. However, it turned out such was unnecessary. Zsasz was already off. It almost disturbed Harvey at how he moved. So sleek and silent. Granted, having bare feet and lots of darkness to work with helped, but he seemed to almost slink into the shadows and instantly barrel right for them. The scarred man couldn't even see him after a moment. Yet the others quickly began to advance as well, leaving the "incinerator room" behind and going after the two men, and that made him take off too.

Yet only a moment after taking off himself, he saw one of the men turned and looked in their direction. Although they were moving into the darkness, and Zsasz was fairly well hidden by staying against the wall, Harvey knew immediately that there was no way that they missed them. They would see their shadow against the glow from the incinerator room if nothing else. He swore they looked right at each one of them.

Yet the reaction was what caught him. Although he was still far away, he was able to see both of them do the same thing…

Crack smiles.

A moment later, Zsasz jumped out of the shadows, seized one, and threw him to the ground, instantly on him like a spider on an insect. The other guard nearly reacted…at least, Harvey supposed he did…but before he could Harley attacked, launching into a series of forward flips before launching herself at him legs first, catching his neck in a vise and then taking him to the ground. With both down and incapacitated although conscious, Zsasz immediately started rummaging over the one he had, tearing into his clothes and pockets. As for Harley, she merely pinned hers down with a grin.

"Now…you stay here…and be good…ok?"

However, Harvey noted something else from this. The woman was panting a bit, and when she spoke, it wasn't her normally devilishly merry self. Rather…she spoke like she was straining. Even now that she was sitting on him and keeping him down, she looked as if she was a bit sore from having done that little 'acrobatic'...

_Wait…is she having aches too? Does that mean…?_

A moment later, the others emerged from the shadows and looked over their two victims. With "prey" to work with, all of them were able to feel more like "themselves"; showing off their superiority over the situation and confidence. Yet Harvey, after seeing Harley's current state, took the moment to look them all over. Nigma seemed to be a bit weaker in his step. Crane kept rubbing the bridge of his nose. Isley was breathing a bit hard. Even the Joker's grin constantly let out a chuckling noise. That wouldn't mean a lot to most people…but to Harvey, he knew he only did that when he wasn't feeling too well...

"Where's a knife… I need a knife!" Zsasz hissed as he desperately looked over the man. "Keys! A sharp coin! Something!"

"If he's got a coin, _I'm_ taking it." Harvey shot back. "I feel practically nude without mine…"

"Forget your neuroses for a moment, gentlemen…" Crane answered as he removed his hand. "Now then, you two…before I consider taking you back into that room we just passed and seeing at what temperature the blood in a man's body boils while he's still alive, could you be so kind as to tell us the way out of here?"

It was here that Harvey looked back to the men…and, again, didn't like what he saw. Neither looked like they were in any pain in spite of being taken to the ground. Neither did they look scared in the least. In fact, they were both still smiling.

One motioned to the right. "Just stay in the hall that way. You'll eventually get out." His voice was in a thick Eastern European accent, but it was still English.

"You'll have to walk about a mile, however." The other added, in a similar accent.

The seven paused on hearing that.

"Well now, aren't you helpful?" The Joker asked. "And here I thought I was going to have to remove a few extremities. Do our reputations proceed us that much? Or are you two just really bad security guards in need of more donuts?"

The two didn't answer. They only continued to smile. The Joker himself stared back a moment, before his own smile faded a bit. He began to step forward.

"You know, I _really_ hate it when someone smiles at a joke and won't let me in on it…"

"Planning on trapping us, aren't you?" Nigma asked. "Or locking the door? What's so amusing?"

"Don't try hiding anything. I'd say you'll live to regret it…but you probably won't live at all." Harvey threw in.

"No tricks." One of the guard answered. "No weapons. All guards have been ordered to let you walk by…at least for the next ten minutes or so. The exit is right there."

"If you think it matters…" The other one added, his tone definitely dark and still smiling.

Zsasz looked up to his. His own eyes narrowed. "…I'd snap your neck right now if I had a way of making a mark afterward. If you're hiding one…"

"Oh, oh, let me!" The Joker cheered. "I'd simply kick their noses into their skulls, but…no shoes and all."

"Well, _I'll_ settle for this." Nigma answered, reaching down to the one Harley had pinned and getting to work trying to move his baton. It was harder than it looked with all of the security measures designed to keep it there. Even when he finally had it unbuckled, he saw that it was still connected via a "bungee" cord, and this one didn't have an obvious seam. "I don't want to waste any more time here. I can always worry about how I'm going to kill our 'host' as well as these men once I've had time to get a new suit and think up a good riddle…"

"Same here." Isley hissed, turning away from them and going off down the hall they had indicated. "I don't know what that man is planning, but I feel too sick at the moment to find out. I need to get in the sun…"

This caught Harvey's ear.

"…Very well." Crane said with an exhale, again rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I'm a bit under the weather myself…but I hope you two don't think that gets you off the hook. I'll be back as soon as I get access to some pharmaceuticals…" He soon turned and went as well.

"And _I'll_ be back to talk about getting you a copy of the Book of Mormon and discussing if your current lifestyle is leaving you fulfilled." The Joker answered with a hand wave. "Toodles!" He said as he turned and began to go after him…not quite as "springy" as usual.

"Wait…wait for me, Mr. J!" Harley answered as she sprung off of her guard, seeming a bit dizzy.

Harvey didn't answer. He quickly followed…and actually sped up as he did so. By now, there was no doubt in his mind. They _were_ all sick…and he was beginning to think it wasn't from the place itself. They had to have been infected with something while they were out. But what did that mean? He didn't know…only that his headache was getting worse and his joints definitely had pains now.

They soon were all taking off. Zsasz was the last one to leave. He continued to rummage over the guard looking for something sharp. On not finding it, he looked infuriated. He glared at the man, and reached out to seize him by the head, intending, it appeared, to break his neck anyway and give himself "the mark" later.

Yet what happened after that went unseen by the others… The guard merely frowned, grabbed Zsasz by the wrists, and then shoved him up so hard that he went off of him. While the madman would have normally overpowered him, he was shoved off fairly easy this time…showing that he too was "weaker" than he was normally. He nearly sprung on him again…only to see the other guard was already up and glaring at him. He didn't attack, but made it clear that he was in for a fight if he stays. Sneering, he turned, got off of the man, and followed the others.

This last hallway was wide open, and also a bit better lit. Yet in spite of that, it was also very long. It seemed to stretch on endlessly for over a mile. Worst of all, however, was that they passed other corridors along the way, and often they had pairs of guards as well. Yet they were always the same. Harvey saw them calmly leaning against walls, not going for their weapons, and simply smiling as they watched them go…as if they were doing exactly what they wanted them to do. It made him realize more and more that this was indeed a sort of trap they were walking into…

But he could do nothing about it. None of them could. The pains in his joints were now that…pains. Each movement seemed stiff and made him hurt. He was feeling a chill now, but, worse than that, the rest of his body was starting to ache too. It wasn't like a real "fever" this time. Rather, his body was just very sensitive and starting to hurt. Each step he took was sending pain through his feet and lower legs. And the pain already in his joints steadily got worse, until he had to actually grit his teeth a bit to keep going. The headache continued to flare. It was starting to pound in his skull…

The others weren't doing much better, and he could tell. All of them were walking more stiffly. All of them began to pant and sweat. Isley herself looked like she was limping along. The Joker began to chuckle more loudly, and soon went into distinct snickering and giggling. Harley was wavering one way and another over time, her face looking pale and wincing from time to time. Yet still the corridor went on…and still they passed guards smiling at them.

"I…I don't feel so hot, Mr. J…" Harley said after a bit.

"Heh heh…come on, babe…" The Joker answered, a bit weakly. "Not about…heh…to let a little…heh heh…atmosphere get to you…heh…are you?"

"I feel it too…" Crane answered, in between a wince. "And I see it on the rest of you… We've been drugged…"

"Not possible…" Nigma answered, a bit weakly himself. "The Joker and Pamela…wouldn't feel it…"

"It hurts…" Isley said after a while, not in her normal "hiss" but in a much more subdued tone. "My whole body…it hurts… It was just aching before…but now…pain all over… And my head… Feels like something is driving a nail into it…"

A bit farther, and Harvey had to agree. By now, it was getting hard to focus on still moving. The pain in his head went into a full-fledged migraine…and was getting worse by the second. His joints were so pained they felt like they were on fire, but he was starting to feel distinct pain everywhere else. It was chronic…potent…and weakening him. Weakening all of them. As the Joker began to laugh louder and longer, they were all moving to a point where they were painfully limping. And still, the pain got worse…

Finally, Harley stopped and slumped to the ground, putting her hands on her head. "I…I can't go any further… I got to rest… This headache… It feels like my brain's trying to split my skull…"

"Heh heh…don't you…heh…need a larger one…heh heh…for that to work?!" The Joker said through strained laughter.

Harvey, on his part, wanted to tell her to go ahead and stay there until she rotted…except he was much the same way. His legs felt like they were practically sprained or broken now, and as he winced and curled up around the pain, every movement made it worse. He could almost hear his heart in his head now, sending out pained throbbing through his ears, eyes, and neck with each beat. He was sweating distinctly, and only getting worse and worse for the experience. Stopping as well, he went over to a wall and leaned against it. "Everything hurts…!" He cursed. "Just…talking…hurts!"

Isley went down a moment later. "I can't take it…! Damnit…stop laughing! Just hearing you…hurts!" She swore.

Crane, Nigma, and the Joker tried to move on from there…but they didn't get far. Soon, they began to slow as well and tried to balance themselves. Even the Joker, laughing his head off at what had to be his own pain, began to get weaker and weaker with each chuckle. More of his laughing sounded strained. Finally, he had to stop along with the rest of them. They too went to the walls to balance themselves…and then, like Harvey, they too collapsed.

It only got worse from there.

The pain radiating through Harvey's body grew more and more intense, going beyond anything that could come from sickness and starting to go into pure agony. It felt as if something was injecting fire into his veins. His whole body was wracked with it. And it just got worse and worse and _worse_… He had been in pain before…pain great enough to make him pass out. After all, he could remember that very distinctly from the day his got his face the first time… Yet this pain was more than that. It felt as if his whole body was being covered with the acid, inside and out. But it didn't diminish. His body didn't "adjust" to it. Even when he stopped moving, it only got more agonizing.

He thought of himself as a "tough guy"…but soon he began to groan. As the minutes ticked by, it became a cry. After that, it began almost a whimpering yell. Yet the pain only grew more terrible…more unbearable.

He opened his eyes, no longer stern, no longer focused, but now strained and filled with agony and pain and misery. He couldn't focus on the others, but they were all the same. They were beginning to whine and cry out. Even Zsasz, who had hung to the rear and was used to self-mutiliation, began to scream out in agony with the rest of them, howling like a madman. The Joker's laughter continued to boom and ring out, but it sounded more erratic, more desperate, more wild… Harvey's head pounded as if something was beating it with a sledgehammer, making it hard to focus on anything except more and more pain… Everything he had ever learned to "tough through it", "get mad", or "shut it out"…bit by bit the pain overrode each one of those and then continued to get worse… Why wasn't he "passing out"? Why wasn't it stopping? Why was everything he doing, movement or lying still, making it more horrendous?

Yet somehow, through all of the agony…he saw something else.

The guards had finally moved. Now, at least thirty of them were approaching the seven. They had all manner of restraining gear, similar to Arkham transport, with them, including a dolly for each.

By the time they finally reached them, it wouldn't have mattered if they were holding guns out to the seven for them to take. None of them could move. All of them could only cry and moan in agony. Harvey hadn't heard himself whine and whimper like this since he was a child…but he did so now. The pain was just too much…siphoning out any "toughness" or hate or anger he could have…replacing it with nothing but misery. Pure, unadulterated pain. He could do nothing to prevent whatever they wanted when they reached him.

The very first thing they did was have a few men pin him down, open his mouth, shove a capsule into it, and then force him to swallow it in spite of his agonized state. He wasn't aware of it, but they did the same to all of the others. After that, they went to work fully restraining him. Straight jacket, handcuffs, legs cuffs…_irons_ was more appropriate, as they were old and made of thick steel. They also bound his body in additional chains before covering it up in thick, burlap-like cloth. Again, this happened to the others, all before they had facemasks slapped over them to ensure they couldn't bite, which had bits inside of _them _to keep them from talking and were wedged into their mouths. Finally, their bodies were placed on the dollies and further chained to them.

By now…Harvey was able to pay more attention to what was going on. His whining and crying slowly diminished as his headache began to subside and his pain finally started to diminish into aches. Even while he was still agonized, he began to breathe and calm down…so intense was it before now. His mind slowly started to work again, and he realized what had happened. Whatever that capsule had been, it must have treated whatever was causing him the pain…

Slowly, the others began to calm as well. While still being secured, all of them were lifted upright on the dollies. At this point, one of the guards stood out from the others. While the rest of them continued to secure the seven, he reached to his side and emerged with a tape recorder. A more "modern" one this time. Soon after, he pressed play on it and held it out for the seven to clearly hear. Harvey wasn't sure about the others, but _he_ listened to it.

It was the same voice as before.

_"__I trust you all 'enjoyed' our 'ice breaker' exercise here in Sheol."_

The other six looked up at this, their senses recovering, while the guards worked more "quietly" so that the tape could be heard.

_"__Allow me to give you a more 'formal' orientation as I explain." _The old voice went on. _"You all remember being in Arkham Asylum. Well…I believe that facility is quite outdated, antiquated, and, most importantly, ineffective for treating the insane such as yourself. So I have brought you to mine…Sheol Asylum. Do not bother trying to place the name. Only the workers here and the inmates know of its existence. Suffice to say, you are many, many hundreds, even thousands, of miles away from Gotham City at the moment, and absolutely no one knows you are here. So if you plan on getting 'outside assistance', you are incorrect. If you are thinking of possibly making a call or contact at some point, you are also incorrect. Aside from battery generators, this entire facility runs on gasworks. And you are very deep underground at the moment, so you can rule out cellular signals. There is no way for you to get any messages out. I dare say some of you are even expecting 'rescue'. Do not._

_ "__In spite of the appearance, I incorporate a great deal of technology in keeping my patients here. I merely left it all unlocked for the first thirty or forty minutes to allow you all to realize there is no escape from Sheol unless I wish it. If you had proceeded down the hall for another, say, three quarters of a mile, you would have eventually started to climb up. But at the top, you would have found nothing except a barren rock island located off the coast of Northeastern Europe. At this time of year, it's already freezing cold up there, no ships can land, no life can be sustained, and unless you can jump into water filled with razor sharp rocks and swim 40 miles to shore, no escape. But even if you could somehow arrange for a way off of this island…you see now that you will not be leaving until I desire it. For now you all realize that you have been infected with a highly specific virus."_

Harvey, his pain subsiding more all the time, leaned up a bit more at this.

_"__It's one of my more clever works. I based it off a rather nasty strain… You see, it infects the region of your brain that deals with pain reception. As it 'flares up', it puts your entire body into what I can only describe as 'soul-wrenching agony'. The most wonderful part about it is that there is no relief from it. Because it is directly infecting your reception of pain, no drugs will give you relief. No sleep will ease your suffering. Even putting you into a medical coma will not lessen your pain in the slightest."_

Harvey stiffened on hearing all that, his eyes widening a bit. Not only him, but some of the others.

_"__There is only one relief to it, which you have just received. A drug of my own concoction that renders the virus almost totally inert for four hours. Got that? _Four hours. _No longer. In four hours, unless I provide you with another dose, you will be back to being on the ground. And I assure you…clinical trials of this man-made virus show that in spite of your agony, due to the nature of the infection it will take you three full days of endless torture before you die of your own accord. Unless, of course, you kill yourself first…and many have. I'll make sure to strap you down to prevent that, however. What this means is that if you wish to obtain relief from your suffering, you will all do exactly as you are told from now on. There will be many forms of punishment for disobedience…but this will be the most basic: no medication for your four hour period. Also, as you understand, this now renders escape impossible until I am done with you. You can run from me…but not from your sickness. Your only relief will come from me and my drugs."_

By now, Harvey was rather shocked. Who the hell was this man and what was going on? What had he done to them? His pain continued to subside…but, like he said, it didn't vanish entirely. He still felt weak and achy, much, he assumed, as he had when he woke up. But why? He would have fumed and gotten angry, but the bit was in his mouth so secure he could only moan and grunt. He couldn't make a threatening move other than looking hateful…and there was little point to doing that to a tape recorder. Besides, moving too much made him still hurt…

Soon, they were all secured. And once that was done, the guards filed in around them, turned them around, and began to walk them back. They only rolled for a short distance before the old man's voice continued.

_"__Now then…as I indicated, the reason you are all here is because I have decided to take over your 'treatment'. I've taken it upon myself to treat you."_

Harvey heard a muffled snickering from the Joker, as well as a snort from Crane.

_"__A daunting task, I know. After all, all the modern techniques and treatments in the world have failed to leave the slightest impact on the seven of you. You always go back to your old ways like the dog returning to his vomit. And even to someone such as myself, there is little hope that I can be successful where they all have failed. However, I do have one very important factor that sets me apart from all of your previous doctors and psychiatrists…"_

A momentary pause before he spoke slower.

_"__My goal is not to cure you. It is not to rehabilitate you. It is not to see you walk as free men and women being productive members of society. My goal is simply this…to protect society from you and to _ensure_ it is protected from you, and to do so by _any means necessary_. If these means result in your deaths…then so be it. However, the seven of you have no fear of death. I believe you are so used to only 'flirting' with it that you've grown to think of him as an 'old friend' that you can shake hands with once in a while and go about your business. I'm afraid I will have to rectify that…and I _will_…"_

The halls continued to go by. Harvey wasn't sure how far they got, but after a few more minutes, he noticed it wasn't too far as they turned a corner. They must have been going rather slow by the time they reached where they had stopped if they were already back.

_"__Here is the main reason why those 'traditional' methods fail with individuals such as you." _The old man went on. _"To rehabilitate, the patient must want to be rehabilitated. To cure you, you must want to be cured. And you do _not_ want to be cured. You're perfectly content with your current lives of murder and mayhem. You see nothing wrong with your acts of violence, crimes, and general hatred and tormenting of your fellow man. You prefer your darkness ever so much more to your light. How can one begin to cure such a thing? Like all foolish government programs and charity outreaches that sought to 'impose goodness' upon people, if they were not ready for it it fell easily. If they were not required to do any of the work themselves, it was doomed to fail._

_ "__My treatment, on the other hand, is quite different. I don't want you to 'want to be made well'…" _Again, he lowered his voice for slow emphasis. _"I want you _desperate_ to be 'made well'. I want you to _beg_ to be cured. I want you to cry into the night for myself or God above to please deliver you from your madness. I want you to whimper at my feet, pleading with tears in your eyes, for sanity…for normalcy…for the ability to become an innocent and productive human being. For me to turn you from monsters back into men and women. And I firmly intend to._

_ "__But first…before you can learn to love and embrace humanity, morality, and sanity…you must be taught to hate monstrosity, immorality, and madness. You must be made to loathe it as you loathe Hell and every cruelty and evil that exists deep down in your memories and heart of hearts that you lash out so desperately against every time you put on your outfits and go on a killing spree. You must not only hate your former evil…you must be as terrified of it as your victims are, so that you shun it and put it away forever. _That, _my new patients, is how you shall be cured. And on that note…I have prepared the second part of your 'orientation' right here…"_

Harvey had been growing progressively more angry as he listened to this. So…this was what this all was, huh? An attempt to torture them and brainwash them into being "good little boys and girls"? He would have spat if his mouth was free. What sort of fool was this man? Did he think he was any more righteous or powerful than all the other doctors they had run into? Did he think he somehow had 'all the answers' to get them out of this? As if he could control the seven of them so easily, virus or no virus? He knew one thing off the bat… He may have cried due to the pain before, but now that he knew what was going on, he was _not_ going to get broken from a little torture. He even began to debate whether or not to defy him and not take the next medicine he offered, or to go ahead and take it and pretend to be "good" just long enough to find out where the supply was and then get to this doctor and break every bone in his body. The latter would probably be best. Nothing got you out of these situations faster than telling them what they wanted to hear, after all… It spared him some asylum time more than once…

Yet as he thought this, he found out that he wasn't returned to his cell. Instead, he was taken to the incinerator room, and wheeled in along with everyone else. Each of them were brought in relatively close to the incinerator. Not _too_ close, but enough to feel the heat, and enough for it to be rather uncomfortable. Not just from the sweat, but from the actual heat coming off of it, like being out in a day that was too sunny. At this point, he was locked in place, and his guards filled out around him, but left the view in front of him clear of the incinerator. He looked around a bit, and saw that the others were similarly arranged. The Joker made a muffled chuckle and tried to say something, but got nowhere.

At this point, he looked forward, and saw even more guards were on the opposite side…along with what looked like large "dummy men". They seemed like they were padded with bulletproof vests or rubber room padding, but there were a number of them on the other side of the incinerator, and several of them were arranged around the area.

However, what really caught his attention was one man in the lead. He was gray haired with a high hairline and a widow's peak, with his face withered and sunken. There were deep lines in his cheeks around his eyes, and his nose seemed extra large and almost hooked. His eyes themselves, in the dim light, almost seemed to burn red. Yet he carried a "commanding" persona about him in spite of this, a magnetism...although it was something dark and sinister. He was dressed in alternate attire. Still thick, but this time wearing a large, dark coat with a high collar around his head. In his hand seemed to be an old book, although Harvey couldn't make out what it was. He couldn't even be sure it was an actual book or some sort of ledger. Only that in the glow of the fire…he seemed almost hellish himself, or at least like a "warden" of Hell.

When he spoke a moment later, the tone of his voice confirmed he was the same as the tape recorders.

"Allow me to introduce myself." He stated. "I am your new 'attending physician'. You may call me Dr. Labdaris, although I would prefer 'doctor' or 'sir'. As for your names…I'll begin using them when I feel you have earned them. Until then, you are simply a patient number to me…something that is not worth pity or mercy, but merely a 'problem to be fixed'. Now then, without further ado…time for the next part of your orientation."

With that, one of the side metal doors that Harvey had noticed earlier, ones that were particularly large and doubled, gave a grunt, before they started to slowly swing open. He looked, and saw that it took two men on either side to force them to open. Soon after, a sound of labored grinding, like giant wheels slowly turning, rang out…and a large, monstrous figure began to be wheeled in by multiple guards.

To be honest, Harvey was a bit stunned at the sight of who, or what, it was. The seven-foot-tall, monstrous-looking, and imposing form of Killer Croc. Currently, he was restrained from head to toe. A muzzle was over his jaws, although he continued to snap and gnash his sharp teeth beneath them. The rest of his body was reinforced both with steel restraints as well as traditional straps…although all were triple-weave reinforced to keep him from moving. Strong as he was, even Croc couldn't possibly break free from all of that. And he was certainly trying. The sounds of his restraints bulging and stretching were heard as he was wheeled in on some sort of platform like a dolly, which he was also chained too. He struggled to get free and lash out for any guard he saw, his yellow, reptilian eyes looking over all of them angrily and hungrily. Yet after a time, his look went to Labdaris.

"You…" He hissed. "I wondered when I'd get to see you again, you withered meatbag…"

He didn't even look to him as the guards wheeled him up to the conveyor leading into the incinerator. Once there, they began to undo his chains from the dolly, and move him over onto the conveyor itself. Naturally, he didn't go with this. And he struggled violently, nearly knocking himself over, in an attempt to attack them or get off of it. However, two of the guards behind him pulled out what looked like some sort of prods, and proceeded to start shocking him. He bellowed and roared beneath the muzzle as he was forced to be still long enough for, not the guards, but two of the "dummies" to grab onto him and drag him onto the conveyor. Once he stood there, they backed up. The machine chugged to life soon after, sounding like it ran on steam, and began to wheel him forward…toward the incinerator.

"Waylon Jones…if you could even be called that anymore…" The doctor exhaled. He proceeded to lift his ledger or "tome" or whatever he had up, broke it open, and looked it over. "Suffering from a rare disease that is turning him both physically and mentally into a crocodile…" He gave a mild snort. "Now I've heard everything… Progressive, steady, marked degeneration physically and mentally. Less and less empathy with time… Higher and higher levels of aggression… More noted acts of savagery…with murders that more and more frequently involve violent dismemberment and eating his victims raw…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…" Croc hissed. "I heard it all before… Care to come a bit closer and tell it to my face, doc? I haven't chowed down in a while…"

The conveyor halted. Soon after, another set of pistons went out. As Harvey watched…the door to the incinerator opened. As large as Croc was, he noticed he would fit inside quite easily.

"Frankly," The doctor continued as he shut the ledger. "I've looked over your case and I can say, tragically, there is little point in attempting to treat you. Your disease is incurable. While you _do_ have my sympathies, for I honestly do not think this is all the 'man' I am seeing but rather a small-brained, aggressive animal that you are becoming, the fact of the matter is you are becoming more dangerous and less human with time. Give it five years and I wonder if your ability to speak will turn into something out of a caveman movie, only able to say single words and ideas. Another two years after that and you'll probably take up walking on all fours and not talking at all. Eventually, your sentience will totally disappear and you'll only be a savage reptile."

"Aw…you're breaking my heart…" Croc snarled. "Or maybe you're just making me want to puke…"

"Therefore, I see no reason to begin a therapy regimen. The best thing for society to do is to destroy you now. And since I have other patients I'd like to make a demonstration to for the orientation, I will be carrying out your euthanasia via incineration."

The conveyor began to move again. Here, Croc actually paused. He looked ahead to the box with the pilot lights, and he didn't say anything for a moment.

"…Are you f***ing serious?"

"Inhumane, I know. But it won't matter after the first two minutes or so." Labdaris calmly answered. "Besides, the more 'humane' thing to do is to let the curable patients watch. The greater good, you see."

"You psychotic sack of sh't…" Croc snarled. A moment later, he struggled more violently than ever. However, for all of his straining, he couldn't break free. All he could do was shake around, and every time he looked to fall over, a couple of the "dummies" would right him. He tried turning to them to snap at them, but that was impossible too. On his part, Harvey was quiet, watching as he was slowly driven into the incinerator. The others were as well, save for the Joker, who said something muffled…no doubt another bad joke. Yet the scarred man was focused on this.

_…__He's serious, isn't he? _

_He doesn't know what he's getting into with Jones, though. He's only going to make him madder. And when he gets loose, he's going to make him wish he had never even heard of him. Even Cash can barely keep himself from being scared around him, and he only took his hand. He should be pissing his pants by now…but he's just calmly treating this whole thing like he's in control…_

Finally, Jones was in the box. The door shut again. Immediately, he tried to fight his way out, but unable to break his restraints, he only could flop around into the various walls, and they were stable enough to hold him without shaking. The plexiglass allowed the seven to see everything.

Putting his book to his side, Labdaris walked up to the side of the box. As he did, he reached out to one side and made a "turning" gesture. In response, guards who were dressed in thick gloves to handle heat began to grab onto and turn valves…opening up gas lines. Harvey could hear it hiss.

"Now then, Mr. Jones…" He said as he halted in front of the case, allowing Croc to see him fully. "Is there anything you would like to say to me?"

Croc continued to hiss and snarl as he looked around the chamber a bit, and then looked to Labdaris.

"Yeah…" He growled. "That when I get out of this…I'm going to rip your arms and legs off. Not _bite_ them off…because that's too damn quick…"

"Mmmhmm." Labdaris answered calmly. "What else? Speak loudly. I want the patients to hear you."

Croc snarled, obviously hating how casually he was saying this. "Then I'm going to bite your face off and piss on what's underneath, for starters…" He went on. "Right before I throw you into this 'easy-bake oven' and watch what's left of you burn away…" He snapped his head up and around. "And then I'm going to gut each and every one of you frail little meatpots in this room, eating whatever inside seems 'tasty'…and, if I'm full, I'll just rip your heads off with my bare hands one by one…"

His eyes narrowed as he looked back to Labdaris.

"But don't you little maggots worry…I'll leave _some_ of you alive…so that you never get a good night's sleep again…so that you see me in your nightmares…coming to finish the job. And you can bet that I _will_ finish the job on at least some of you…and I'll enjoy letting you all try to decide which ones…especially those of you with brats of your own."

The room was silent save for the gas. Labdaris didn't move or react.

"…Is that 'enough', _doc_?" Croc snapped.

"That will be quite enough, Mr. Jones." The doctor calmly responded. "Thank you."

He gestured to the man at the valve, and, in response, he gave a large one a turn.

Immediately, the inside of the incinerator was filled with fire. Croc was wrapped in it in an instant. A moment later, he began to bellow in inhuman, even for him, agony as his body was coated by the hungry flames. His skin kept him from burning at first…but the guard kept turning up the heat until he turned into a shadow, and Harvey soon began to smell the scent of flesh burning…a scent that quickly got worse. He thrashed about once that happened, fighting more madly than ever. But his iron chains didn't burn nearly as easily as he did. And for all of his yelling, roaring, and gnashing…for all the endless curses and threats he yelled out…he continued to burn.

Harvey closed his eyes and looked way…only to gag when he felt a baton slam into his exposed stomach. A moment later, he felt the guards seize his head, turn it, and force it back at Jones…force him to continue to watch the man burn even as bits of him started to "dribble" off. They grabbed his eyelids and forced them open. Not only him, but the other inmates. Only the Joker was letting out a cackling sound. Crane, Nigma, and Zsasz showed no emotion, although they _did_ try not to look at it. As for Harvey, Harley, and Isley…they were all showing more discomfort, but the guards made them keep watching regardless.

Eventually, the struggles began to cease. Either the fire melted the muscles or the pain got to be too much for him. The curses died as did the roaring, and the enflamed body, continuing to drip off ashy remains, suddenly slumped in the cage. Yet the fires didn't diminish. They continued to roast him…continued to belch smoke through special vents and ash through fume pipes, and continued to let pieces of him fall. As the minutes ticked by, Harvey could actually make out his highly-deformed skull, with the teeth accented by the fire as he was now burning inside and out. Slowly the rest of the skeleton was exposed…before that too was burned by the flames and began to crumble. It was a long, arduous, slow process…but none of the guards flinched or moved. They calmly watched every second of it.

And the others were forced to as well.

As cold and ruthless as he was, Harvey felt something come over him as he watched this. A sense of horror…even for someone like Jones. But it was more like that. Something about this…didn't seem real. Something wasn't sinking in. He kept thinking time would reverse. Or he would blink and wake up. That something would change this. But all he saw was Jones' remains continuing to burn. He could actually feel the heat from the fire almost singing him. He could smell Jones' body parts in the air like burnt barbecue. He could still hear his screaming and cursing…

Not only was he quiet and still over time…but the others slowly went quiet as well, and simply stared. Their eyes were wide.

It was only when there were only a few bones left that Labdaris raised an eyebrow, looking to the others.

"Well now…what went wrong?" He said innocently. "Whatever is happening here? Why are the ashes not piecing themselves back together and smashing out of the cage? Why are the bones not reassembling and leaping forth to bite my face off and rip off my arms and legs? Why is 'Killer Croc', who terrorized and tormented so many, whose name was synonymous with terror and fear, who was a monster beyond monsters that men, women, and children all feared…simply degenerating into ash before our eyes? Why is he not emerging deadlier and stronger than ever to enact every last word of his revenge?"

Labdaris paused. The room was silent. Even the Joker was still for a moment. After a second, he turned to them and pointed to the flaming box.

"Look well on this, all of you. Remember what you saw and heard. Right down to the moment his brain was boiled in his skull and life ceased, he thought, somehow, that he was going to get out of this. And you all…you thought the same way, didn't you? That's why you all have such blank looks on your face. Why you have all gone so quiet. You think you're all 'immortal'. You all think, no matter what you do or what happens, that everything will eventually become 'back the way it was'. Even now, you all are expecting the police, Gotham City or otherwise, or perhaps the Batman to come bursting through that door, take you all back to Arkham, cure you of the virus I've infected you with, and, within two days, you'll be back to planning your latest crime.

"That is the problem with a spoiled child. They learn to forget consequences exist. And that is exactly what society has done with all of you…made you forget that you're all just as mortal as your victims. Just as easy to kill. You're not even a 'true supervillain' like individuals such as Sinestro or Brainiac or all the others you see on the news. You're just men and women…sad, miserable, twisted little excuses for men and women. You are _astoundingly_ mortal and vulnerable, and you are only still alive by some unhappy chance. Before we are done, you _will_ understand just how mortal and 'small' you all are…how easy it would be for anyone to snuff our your lives like a candle. You're not monsters. You're not gods. You're not demons. You're simply lucky enough to have been surrounded by those who have granted you pity and mercy…until now."

The room was quiet momentarily after this…save for the burning of Jones, who was now literally nothing more than charcoal and ash. Labdaris looked them all over, but finally pulled up his ledger.

"Now then…we shall begin." He stated. "Today was orientation day. Tomorrow…I send you to Hell. And do not think you can 'fake' your way through rehabilitation. Oh no…not this time. Because for the first few weeks, I don't really care how 'well-behaved' you are. I'll torture you just the same until I can be sure you no longer have the strength or mentality to lie to me. It will be _after_ that I will consider rewarding 'good behavior'. And for those of you who think you can fool me…"

His eyes narrowed.

"…I _never_ give 'warnings'." He pointed his hand to the incinerator. "I only give things that make _that_ look preferable."

In spite of his stony demeanor, even Harvey thought his heart accelerated for a moment.

The ledger was opened. "You have only one task for this evening. You will be provided a mirror by the guards. You will look yourself straight in the eye in that mirror, and you will say the following…"

He looked down to the ledger.

"'I seek will all my heart, with all my soul, with all my mind, and all my strength to be made well. I understand I have done evil in the past and committed great sin, but I vow to live a blameless life forevermore. I deeply regret each and every time I have ever hurt a member of my fellow man willfully and unwillfully through my actions, and I repent forevermore of such crimes with deep sorrow. I fully reject my old identity, crimes, and evil and seek an upstanding and upright life. I long to become a productive member of society, and I will commit every last fiber of my being to achieving sanity and normalcy. This I do swear. Now before God Almighty do I swear it upon my blood, flesh, and bone that I will not seek to leave Sheol Asylum until I have purged every last bit of my soul and heart of my former evil and emerge an innocent human being.'"

The ledger closed.

"You will say this ten times to yourself out loud, and you will say it in a way that indicates that you believe it completely, to the satisfaction of the guards supervising you. You will do so every day three times a day: in the morning…at noon…and before you go to bed. Fail to do so…mutter so much as a syllable…look away even once…or fail to convince the staff that you mean every last word…and your medication will be withheld from you for the next period and you will not be fed the next meal. Feel free to go on a 'hunger strike' in this way because, as I said before, I only want to protect society…not you. If you wish to starve to death while in Sheol, that simply 'speeds up my job'."

He motioned to the guards, who began to go to the dollies as the gas was turned off, leaving only a pile of smoldering charcoal and ash behind in the box.

"I suggest you go to bed early. You'll need your strength to even make it through tomorrow, and that's if you _don't_ cause any trouble."

* * *

_To be continued..._


	3. Weeping Angel

_Five Days Later_

* * *

It turned out Batman's worst predictions were realized. After going from one suspect to the next, they all had pretty much the same reactions. None of them were quite as "bold" as Gorman was, but it seemed all of them drew their "strength" from what he had: the death of loved ones or friends at the hands of the inmates of Arkham Asylum. There was little doubt in his mind, at this point, that this was all about revenge…but that somehow they thought that this man, Klaudius Labdaris, was the best to administer it as opposed to a gun or even some "homemade torture". In any event, they were no longer in the city. He had no idea where they were, and little to no leads to pursue.

At the moment, he was again in full costume as he scanned over the Batcomputer, trying to find any articles he could. Aside from a few other snippets that Oracle hadn't brought up, there was nothing. None of the articles were much use though. The few that had managed to leak were all on local newspapers. In Soviet-controlled Latvia, there had been very few mainstream articles after he began to practice. What ones were there accused him of implementing older methods of "psychiatric treatment" which were glorified torture, such as temperature extremes, food and sleep deprivation, and what amounted to military brainwashing. Batman grudgingly had to admit that such methods might actually work to an extent for some cases, at least when it came to lines of thinking. Yet it seemed that there were "bad sides" to all of that as well. The few local articles that got out referred to people who had found having gone mad, hung themselves, or, in some cases, disemboweled or even dismembered themselves. These were found to have ties to Labdaris or his methods…albeit years after any potential treatment. It made him a bit uneasy.

Yet through it all, he couldn't help but notice something else.

It had been six days since the news of Arkham's breakout had taken place, and there was now a "change" in the city. Before, there would be an air of panic and unease. After all, a mass breakout meant it was only a matter of time before violence broke out or someone like the Scarecrow or the Joker unleased their latest homicidal plan. Botanical gardens would brace themselves for Poison Ivy storming them and killing the staff to "free her babies". Zsasz's little 'vignettes' would start popping up in the worst places. Killer Croc would have brutalized several people. The Riddler would have left his first clue for him to find at his first crime scene. Two-Face would have started trying to take a section of the city for himself again to the tune of numerous dead gang members and shootouts. And yet…nothing. For the first five days, everyone in the city seemed to be on edge, as if expecting something to happen at any moment. But now that they passed, Gotham was slowly beginning to realize it wasn't going to come this time. There were a few more people on the streets. A bit more laugher and smiles in passing crowds. Even the economy was picking up a bit again after a momentary downturn.

As Batman thought over all of this, he almost felt like snickering.

_Funny…not just me, but everyone else in this city is so used to them causing panic and destruction that we almost don't know what to do when it _doesn't_ happen. We've seen this all so many times that when it doesn't come up, we're at a loss. Even the Commissioner seemed "off" when I talked to him last night…_

By now, the police's own investigation had turned into a kidnapping, now that all the details were coming out…but Batman noticed that no one in the force was too "eager to find them". After all, why should they have been? Especially after years of trying to stop _them_ rather than whatever criminal had wronged them. Yet he had to admit, even if they were more "on the ball", there would be little to find. None of the people involved would say anything. And it wasn't as if they were the traditional "patsies" or "hoods" who had something to lose that a lawyer or he could get out of them.

Besides…Gorman hadn't been the only one who had not been happy to see him…

He knew the answer, therefore, had to lie in Labdaris himself. But he had checked out every Labdaris in the city by now. None had anything of note. Most of those who still used the name were immigrants from Latvia who were near the end of their lives. Their children had already changed the names. Based on the address, it was likely that Labdaris was still somewhere in Europe, or possibly even Latvia itself. But that was a lot of ground to cover even then with little to no records. Law enforcement agencies that he had checked in with had spotty records at best, but definitely nothing with a Klaudius Labdaris.

The best he could do was try and test the components of the dummy he had recovered. The CPU was common enough, but most of the other parts had to be special ordered. Unfortunately, most of them had to have been bought illegally. Only a few stock components could possibly be traced, and those were such large orders that there was no tracking them. He tried looking into the shipping companies for orders of large freight before it got too "late", trying to find if they were recent shipments. Again, no good. They had to have been shipped in weeks ago. Not surprising. If these people who came to Arkham had been planted (and it seemed so as many of them were resigning without even having been formally charged yet), then this could have happened up to a year in advance. This was planned too well.

Batman wasn't sure what to do. He was coming up empty. He was used to his foes "sticking around" and presenting more evidence. By now, however, he realized that they had to have been likely shipped out of the country. And at five days ago…anything could have happened. It looked like he was about to spend a night in another fruitless search.

Yet in spite of that, he had to admit one thing.

_I may be spending my nights in the Batcave…but I'm not losing anything. With those eight gone…the city has been rather quiet. That could change at any moment from the crime organizations or one of the Blackgate inmates…but…it's actually been somewhat peaceful. I don't think I've had this much "idle" time in a long while._

_I really don't have a reason to be "taking it easy", though. This was clearly for revenge, which means the inmates are undergoing either torture or are already dead… Every hour I spend in here not finding them is another hour they're being subjected to some form of pain or suffering…_

_And yet…I wonder… Am I having to "force" myself to "work harder" on this case?_

Before Batman could ruminate on that thought any more, the Batcomputer gave a beep, notifying that a call was incoming. The name immediately popped up on the screen: Oracle. At once, he reached over and typed a key to answer it, and soon it began the auto-record.

"What is it?"

_"__I've got something."_ The woman's voice, betraying just the hint of eagerness she had at finally "cracking" a deadblock, responded. _"Something big. You'll love it."_

"I'm all ears. I've found nothing on my end."

_"__Remember that employee from Latvia who had been there longer than the other hires?"_

"Sophia Layton, as I recall. When I saw she wasn't on duty that evening or been anywhere near the cameras or drugs, I didn't pay much mind to her, I'll admit. I've been mostly trying to chase down other leads. Are you saying she was involved in the event?"

_"__No…at least, not directly. But check out your 'New Materials' folder. I think this at least merits some 'interest'…"_

As if on cue, a file popped in on it. Batman narrowed his gaze a bit, tempted to be a little upset with how easily Oracle had managed to hack his latest firewall and deposit files directly onto his hard drive. He didn't like leaving 'access routes' open to the Batcave computer. However, he brushed that aside for now and instead opened up the file. Soon, a collection of video and audio files popped up, all with various dates over the past two years.

"What are these?" He asked.

_"__I won't go through them all, but apparently Ms. Layton had an interesting way of doing things over at Arkham Asylum. She was technically hired as an RN, but she did things like this that were caught on the security feeds or recordings. Try out the first one. It's from shortly after she finished orientation when she was tending to Jervis Tetch following burns he sustained in one of your scuffles with him before he was shipped to Arkham."_

Batman moved over to the file and turned it on. It took a moment to load, and then began. There were a few moments of movement, and then speaking. The voice that came forth sounded rather young and with excellent American English, in spite of the fact Batman had seen Sophia Layton's bio and saw she was both in her late 20s as well as a Latvian immigrant.

_"__Good morning, Mr. Tetch. Did you not feel like breakfast?"_

_ "__I'm afraid not… I have no appetite."_

_ "…__I'm sorry. I tried to make the stack of pancakes into a 'hat' shape, but it's not exactly the best to work with… I'm just here to check your fluid for right now, but later I'll be back for the bandages."_

_ "__Very well, go ahead. But please don't…you know…touch everything."_

_ "__I'll be sure not to. Besides, I'll use gloves."_

_ "__From a box that you've already opened…"_

_ "__Well…I'll just open another box. Hang on a second."_

A few moments went by. A few movements rung out.

_"__Are you feeling better? You looked very sore yesterday…"_

_ "__Oh, nothing I'm not used to by now…"_

_ "…__Can I ask you a question, if you don't mind?"_

_ "__Ah, but you already did, my dear."_

_ "__Heh…yeah. Ok, _two_ questions?"_

_ "__Very well. Go on."_

_ "…__Why did you do it this time?"_

_ "__Why is a raven like a writing desk, Sophia?"_

_ "__I don't know."_

_ "__Neither have I the slightest idea. It just _is_. Does that answer your question?"_

_ "__You know…I heard you're a brilliant neurotechnician. That there's all sort of things you can do with those devices you build…"_

_ "__Yes. Your point being?"_

_ "…__Do you ever think you might, you know, help people out with them? I mean…what if you could make people who have PTSD forget what happened to shake them up? Or kids who have bad memories that traumatize them? I mean…doing it in a 'good' way. I think you originally wanted to make these things to do something that would help-"_

_ "__Do you know you remind me of Alice, Sophia?"_

_ "…__Oh, do I?"_

_ "__Do you know what I do to young women like you who remind me of Alice, Sophia?"_

_ "…__Yes…yes I do."_

_ "__Then you had better stop talking nonsense and run down the nearest rabbit hole as quick as your little legs can carry you."_

The audio file ended.

_"__I have to admit…given our 'past', I was a bit sickened by that one." _Oracle's voice answered. _"But there's more. Check out the next one. That's with old Dr. Crane when she was bringing the medicine around one day."_

Batman clicked this one. This was an actual video, albeit a grainy one. It started off showing a nurse who he could only assume was Layton walking down the hall with a cart full of meds. She arrived at one cell, got some out, and then passed it inside.

_"__Here you go, Dr. Crane."_

A bit of a shifting noise. He was unseen on the video, based on the angle in the hall, but his voice was heard.

_"…__40 year old Tylenol for a broken leg. 'My cup runneth over'…"_

_ "__…I'm sorry, sir. They won't let you have any 'sophisticated' drugs that you can distill…"_

_ "__Hmph."_

Sophia turned to move on, but then paused and looked back.

_"__You know…I read two of your papers this weekend. You know…your 'old' papers, back when you still taught. I thought they were pretty interesting."_

_ "__So…you enjoy seeing human test subjects petrified in terror, do you, Ms. Layton?"_

_ "…__I…I was referring to your theory on how phobias develop. I thought your reasoning was brilliant."_

_ "__Very good. Feel free to write a complaint letter to Gotham University for revoking my PhD and please go away."_

Sophia held a moment, turning more to the cell.

_"__Don't you ever think…maybe…you could get back into education? You're a smart man. You can teach psychology students a lot. Maybe not at a university level, but at a community college or-"_

Suddenly, she recoiled as what Batman presumed was the pills went flying through the bars, nearly hitting her in the head. She actually let out a small cry that made the nearby patients start howling.

_"__People like you make such boring test subjects, Ms. Layton." _Crane's voice calmly continued after a moment. _"You frighten far too easily before I can get any meaningful data. Unless you'd like me to demonstrate how to talk an Arkham worker into committing suicide, leave now."_

The video ended as Sophia, cringing, went off.

_"__And the next." _Oracle went on. _"This is one with Edward Nigma.."_

Batman clicked the icon. Another audio file this time, although it started off "innocently" enough. Again, he heard Sophia's hopeful voice.

_"__Hello, Mr. Nigma. I think I'm going to stump you this time. I've got a really good one."_

A bored sigh. _"Really now. Coming from a woman who's only intelligent enough to get a job as an nurse in Arkham Asylum? Not exactly 'threatening' me…"_

_ "__I can bring tears to your eyes; resurrect the dead; make you smile; and reverse time. I form in an instant but I last-"_

A tired sigh. _"Memory, Ms. Layton."_

_ "__Oh, you got that again! You're so good at these!"_

_ "__Well, when the one asking is as stupid as you, Sophia, it's not really a challenge."_

_ "…__You know, Mr. Nigma, there's no reason to be so nasty as that. I _know_ you're smarter than me. You're smarter than a lot of people. You can be anyone you want to be. Really."_

_ "__I'm _exactly_ who I want to be, Ms. Layton. Don't I always look like I'm having a good time? And frankly…I get enough from my doctors continuously telling me how 'brilliant' I am and how much 'good' I could do working for a tech firm or some other desk job where people expect me to solve their problems for them and give me only a fraction of what I'm worth to them. I don't need a nurse trying to practice psychology doing the same."_

_ "__But it wouldn't just be the money, though. People would respect you. Admire you. I'd be the first in line to buy a product you made. I'd even want you to sign it for me…"_

_ "__I have a riddle for you, Ms. Layton."_

_ "…__Yes? I'm all ears."_

_ "__I go home one night. I turn on the lights and find they're attached to a set of electrodes that send 100,000 Volts in high current through my body in an instant, and then a couple of loose dogs in my apartment run up to me and start eating my remains. What am I?"_

_ "…__I…I don't…really know."_

_ "__Really? The answer's easy, my dear…'_Sophia'."

The file ended.

"I think I'm getting the idea." Batman stated.

_"__Just one more." _Oracle answered. _"The video of her and Pamela Lillian Isley."_

He hesitated, but then reached over and clicked on this one. Another bad bit of footage, but this one showing Isley in her specially-made cell. She sat in it for a while, in a few moments of silence. After a time, however, the sound of a door opening was heard. She looked up a bit, and soon saw the figure of the nurse walk into the screen.

_"__Hello there."_

Isley was less than "warm". _"What do you want?"_

_ "__I'm Sophia Layton, and I-"_

_ "__I didn't ask you for your name."_

_ "…__and I'm just here to watch your vitals. Make sure you're getting enough light."_

_ "__If by 'enough light' you mean to where I feel sick and weak 24/7 as opposed to falling over dead, then yes, I'm 'getting enough light'. Hurry up and do your business."_

The nurse moved over to the cell's side and began to look over it. There were a few moments of silence. The nurse looked to Isley several times, seeming to try and think of something to say. After a time, she swallowed.

_ "__Um…you know…would you like to talk a bit? There's no other inmates in this quarter and I don't want you to feel you're in solitary confinement…"_

_ "__Spare me. The only reason you're even here is because you're a woman…likely a heterosexual one at that…so there's no chance of me drugging you to let me out. I can only 'kill you outright'."_

A pause. _"…Um…you know, they're expanding Gotham Botanical Gardens. They're almost making it 50% bigger…"_

A sigh. _"Let me ask you something…if you saw a prison where men and women were put in tiny cages with their limbs hacked off along with parts of their bodies, all so that other people could look at them as if they were something 'beautiful'…would you really care if they made it '50% bigger'?"_

Sophia swallowed. _"Um…not…not really."_

_ "__Then you know how little I care about your feeble attempt to make small talk, you smelly bag of flesh." _Isley retorted. _"You're wasting your breath trying to 'appeal to my humanity'. I shun it at every opportunity."_

_ "…__Ms. Isley," _Sophia went on. _"Do you ever think you're possibly going about this 'all wrong'? If you try to hurt people to get your point across, how much better is that than any other extremist around the world? No one ever listens to them. They just hate them. You may be doing plants more harm than good…"_

_ "__So long as we're quoting world affairs, keep in mind that someone can be as genocidal and tyrannical as they want…provided they are the ones in power."_

_ "__But…but some of the people you've hurt… They're just kids. They don't know any better. Some of them might listen to you if you tried to talk to them. Surely they're worth more to your ideas than just killing them outright… I even heard you once helped children…"_

_ "__Do you ever stop to think that some of those blades of grass you step on might be 'sympathetic to humans'? Does that make you any more inclined not to walk all over them?"_

_ "…__Ms. Isley, I don't want to argue with you, but those are plants. They don't have any feelings except the ones you give to-"_

Sophia recoiled as a fist smashed against the wall.

_"__You smug little bitch…just like all the others… Thinking that because something doesn't scream when you cut it or cry when you crush it that it cannot _feel_. You're as miserably self-centered as the rest of your filthy species. Maybe next time I get out of here I'll cut out your tongue. Then we'll see if it's a crime to kill _you_ when you can't yell in agony."_

Sophia said no more. She only meekly picked herself up and left the chamber.

"…Quite the stubborn one." Batman remarked.

_"__You have no idea." _Oracle went on. _"And she never gave up. Not with those four…not with any of them. She's gotten in trouble numerous times for it, though. She's been accused of trying to practice psychology without a license. She's claimed each time she wasn't practicing psychology…she was trying to 'be a friend'. She thinks the way to dealing with these inmates is to 'kill them with kindness'."_

"Apparently, quite the naïve one too. These are serial killers."

_"__There might be _some _merit to this approach. There's no question everyone in Arkham hates who they have to take care of, from the janitors to the orderlies to the nurses to the guards to the psychiatrists. They all think it's an oversized zoo and they're caretaking monsters. It seems Sophia Layton's history and disciplinary reports indicate she believes the way to 'restore their humanity' is to 'treat them like human beings'. Note how she keeps giving calls for support and encouragement to live 'normal' lives. She saw herself, I think, as some sort of 'ray of hope in the darkness'. Unfortunately…most of the other patients saw her as just plain annoying, and her superiors probably would have fired her by now if the 'turnover' rate for nurses wasn't so high…"_

"I'm not sure whether to be encouraged by her or shake my head at her." Batman answered. "I suppose if I had the luxury of looking at this in retrospect, I might admire her for at least not giving up hope. Still, although this is unusual, I'm not seeing the main point."

_"__You could barely tell she was a immigrant from Latvia, couldn't you?"_

"Yes."

_"__It seems she's adapted to a lot of 'American-isms'…including giving herself a more 'English' name legally. Her original name was Sofjia…" _A pause. _"Sofjia Labdaris."_

Batman's eyes narrowed. "…Even if by some random chance it's a coincidence, it merits checking out."

_"__That's what I thought. So…going to pay her a personal visit?"_

"Not just yet." The dark knight answered as he began to shut down the current programs on his computer and get running the "makeup" toolboxes. "Those eight were bad, but they weren't the only inmates in Arkham. Layton is still there as well. I want to see if I can't find anything suspicious at work linking her to these crimes. It's not illegal to be related to a criminal, after all, even if this pans out."

_"__Happy hunting. Now that there's a new 'person of interest', I'm going to see if I can dig anything else up on her…"_

* * *

Although going in undercover at Arkham as a staff member wasn't nearly as difficult as Batman hoped it would be under normal circumstances, he liked to think that his own skill set made it a bit "easier" for one such as him as opposed to being something anyone could do. Normally he would content himself with lurking in the shadows and doing an investigation, but he wanted to actually see this individual in a more "natural" setting, which required a bit more effort on his part. Getting hired and going through the process of fabricating a fake identity and identification would take far too long, but there were ways around it. There were some older janitors who worked there, for example. Ones that didn't garner a whole lot of attention or stares. It was a simple matter to look through the files to find one that approximated the underlying bone structure of his own face and who was "large" enough to be approximately close to his own body in the right attire. After that, he simply made a synthesizer call to the janitor telling him he was being called off for the night due to overstaffing but that they still intended to pay him eight hours wage, which was enough for him to dismiss the whole thing.

After that, his computer went to work synthesizing the necessary latex and makeup for him to do up his own face to look as aged and withered as the target janitor. Adding a bit of facial hair makeup to give him a beard and mustache, and a hat for added effect, and so long as no one stared at him for too long he would pass for the janitor perfectly. Getting a matching uniform, being stock issue for Arkham, was also simple, and within as little as two hours he was driving the Batmobile back to the Asylum, parking it in his special "garage spot", and then walking in with the rest of the nightly employees courtesy of a dummy security badge that caused a "hiccup" in the system as opposed to replicating the man's ID. That was a bit too secretive for him to get on short notice.

That done, he soon went in and went about his business like a normal janitor. He actually consented to mop down a floor or two and empty a can of trash, establishing himself as routine, before he made his first move. It wasn't hard. He had done many things like this before. He went toward the locker rooms and stopped by the guard at the check-in station.

"Ms. Layton forgot her combination." He announced, holding up a pair of bolt cutters. "I'm here to remove her lock and replace it."

The guard let out a sigh. "What else can that 'fairy princess' get into? Number 351."

"Thank you."

A minute later, he was in the locker room and, after making sure no one was watching, cut the lock. He opened it up a moment later and quickly looked through everything. There wasn't much to see. It had been decorated with pictures of kittens in cute poses as well as a schedule for her work month and a few notifications. There was a light jacket hung over a few manuals and some old nursing school textbooks regarding practice, procedure, and a book on virology. Other than that was a bag lunch and an address book that a quick look-through showed didn't have any entry under "Labdaris", "mom", or "dad". The same with her cell phone. It wasn't quite "coming up dry"…as the fact that Layton had no way of contacting her family had to be something. It indicated she might have left Latvia for a reason. At any rate, he quickly disassembled the lock and put it back together with fresh parts before replacing it on the locker, and then moved on. He wanted to see her personally next.

As it turned out, he didn't get an opportunity for two hours. Although he had made sure to come in on a day she was working, he didn't manage to catch any glimpses of her. Part of it was that the blocks that held the major criminals were under high security. After all, only a week ago had been the major breakout. They were watching where the remaining high-danger-level prisoners were very closely. Even a janitor wouldn't be allowed in without a thorough search, and he wasn't about to risk that. He confined himself to the outskirts, waiting for Layton to show up, either going in or going out. However, he never seemed to get lucky enough to spot her even after a couple hours.

What he did notice, however, was that the mood was more upbeat in Arkham. He supposed it only figured. They were out eight of their worst inmates. And while they knew they could get them back any day now, they seemed happy for the moment to be without them. There was a greater air of confidence among the staff. Dull, ancient, and drab as the asylum seemed…there was an air of hope about it too right now. Even the most grim-looking staff member seemed better than normal. Nevertheless, he didn't get any more news or sight of Sophia Layton while he hung around. Then, however, he managed to overhear something…

Namely that she had been brought into one of the offices of the attending psychiatrists for disciplinary action.

Not wanting to miss this, Batman, still in janitor guise, made his way to the office of the head psychologist for that evening, Dr. Herbert Radcliffe, and began to tidy up in the outer office to try and overhear something, but unfortunately the meeting was in the inner office and was closed door, not to mention already underway when he arrived. Since there was a night secretary attending, he couldn't listen from outside. So, instead, he quickly went about his work of emptying the wastepaper baskets and cleaning up a few things, then moved to exit.

"I need to get into Dr. Radcliffe's office, but now seems like a bad time." He told the secretary. "I'll be back as soon as the meeting is out."

"Take your time." The secretary answered, who was social networking on her cell phone and not looking up for even a moment. "He'll be in with her for at least another fifteen minutes the way he's going…"

Batman nodded, and then left the office. Being the night crew, there was little staff there, and so no one saw him look around through the hall and to the next door office that had been shut down for the evening. He proceeded to unlock that door and move inside. Once in, he shut and locked it again, relying on the black-and-white security cameras to see nothing other than him going in. Leaving the room dark, he moved to the back room and into the inner office of the absent doctor for this chamber.

In there, he took a moment to reach into his pockets for some of his "little toys" he had brought along from the Batsuit. Namely, a pocket amplifier and earpiece. Fixing the earpiece against his head, he picked up the amplifier, placed it on the wall, and tuned it to transmit through to what was on the other side. It only took a moment or two before he began to hear voices.

"-it was just a little thing, sir. I don't see why…"

"Do you think of yourself as Florence Nightingale, Ms. Layton?"

A pause.

"Do you?"

"No sir."

"Do you think it is your job to be 'den mother' of the inmates here?"

"No sir, but-"

"Do you think that you are some sort of 'wandering angel' for these 'poor souls', sent here to be God's mercy incarnate or somesuch?"

"No, not at all! But-"

"Then I can only assume you are trying to practice psychology without a license, Ms. Layton, and that is not only unethical and illegal but frowned upon by the staff at Arkham, and I will not have any more of it. This incident is the last straw."

"All I did was give a little powdered lemonade with their water, sir. It's not like I smuggled drugs or-"

"Ms. Layton," A sound of ruffling papers for a moment, then a tapping. "Right there. What is this?"

"…"

"Ms. Layton."

"…Rules for patient care, sir."

"What does it say right there? Rule number three?"

"…No outside, unapproved items are to be given to the patient for any reason at any time."

"What else?"

"…"

"Ms. Layton…"

"Failure to abide by this rule…will result in disciplinary action."

"Go on."

"…Up to and including termination."

"Black and white, clear as crystal, Ms. Layton. And you decided to ignore it completely."

"I didn't! That lemonade powder was approved by the cafeteria! I'm a nurse, not an orderly! I can use some discretion with what I give the patients-"

_"__Not_ as far as 'rewards' are concerned, Ms. Layton! What part of 'criminally insane' do you not understand? The only reason some of them haven't gotten the gas chamber yet is because the state ruled them insane! That powder was to be used for if they maintained good behavior!"

"But sir, there was nothing in it! I thought maybe if I gave them something good when I talked to them this time, I'd-"

The woman went silent, but no words were spoken over her this time to cut her off. Batman had a good idea of what she had just spilled, though.

"'When I talked to them'. Ms. Layton, exactly how many times have I had to talk to you about your 'conversations' with the patients?"

"S…Sir…"

"Three times, Ms. Layton. Are you familiar with the 'three strikes and your out' policy at Arkham when it comes to misdemeanors?"

"…Yes sir, but-"

"But _nothing_. You have endangered yourself, your fellow staff, and even the inmates by wantonly breaking the rules whenever you feel like it and been causing problems for everyone with your little attempts to 'make friends'. These are _criminals_, Ms. Layton. Not typical patients, either medical or psychological. True psychopaths. They've been sick for years with no signs of improvement. And here you are, trying to make 'friends' with them to give them a greater chance of escape next time or to make yourself a fitting target for their next killing spree."

"Sir…" The voice had actually gathered a bit of strength. "…I know I'm not a psychologist, but I was never trying to practice psychology. I was trying to do my duty as a human being. You're trying to treat these inmates…but look at them. Look at what the world thinks of them. Look at what they think of _themselves_. Look at Dr. Quinzell…how she doesn't see herself as anything but that jester woman now. I know you're trying to all treat her from being 'Harley Quinn'…so shouldn't we at least talk to her as if she was Harleen Quinzell? If we want 'Two-Face' to act like Harvey Dent again, shouldn't we treat him as if he _is_ Harvey Dent?"

A groan. "…Ms. Layton, I hate to be so blunt, but could you stop and listen to yourself talk for a moment? These people have been hardened criminals for years. Doing atrocities and crimes the likes of which you can't even imagine. You're treating them as if they're children to 'slap on the wrist and then hug'. Do you know how naïve you're being? How much danger you're bringing on yourself?"

"…Forgive me, doctor…but if we don't honestly think these people can be cured," The woman continued. "What's the point of me even being here? Or this facility? Or _you_, for that matter? Isn't the whole reason they're here because we have faith that they can 'come back'?"

A groan, followed by an angry mutter. "Ms. Layton…this is a scientific institution. Not one for idealistic people who are so devoted to ideals that they have no concept for pragmatism. And right now, in the face of such a massive catastrophe as the recent breakout, there is no place for individuals who cannot abide by the rooms. Neither will this institution become a grounds for 'charity workers' to practice quackery or holistic medicine."

"But-"

"I'm going to place a call to higher management to recommend that we let you go. If it goes through you will be fired. The turnaround time is three days. During that time, effective immediately, you can consider yourself off duty. You should seriously consider submitting a letter of resignation during that time if you wish to avoid a black mark on your resume."

"But-"

"That is all, Ms. Layton. You may clean out your locker now. It's better to do so now while things are quiet."

"If-"

_"__That is all."_

The woman went silent after this. A moment later, he heard some shifting.

"…Good night, sir."

There was nothing after that. Having heard all he needed to, Batman pulled the earpiece from the wall and began to put it away. All in all, he hadn't learned much from this encounter that he didn't already know, although it served to cement a few things in his estimation. Layton seemed to be "authentic", at least. She had the reputation that matched her footage and recordings. It appeared it had just cost her quite a bit. What more, it seemed she had no contact with Dr. Labdaris. At least not overtly. As a result, it was tempting to think that this might have just been a coincidence, but Batman wasn't so sure. He had a feeling there was still something here…that this couldn't be pure luck.

At any rate, he wasn't going to find any more answers here. As he turned back to the supply cart with the intention of resuming his role of janitor, he knew he only had one more stop to make: human resources to pick up the file on Sophia Layton and examine it for clues. After that, he would be headed out of Arkham and straight for her apartment. After all…he wanted to make sure he was in place before she arrived…

* * *

Batman was such a "seasoned veteran" at this by now that getting back out of Arkham was almost as easy as getting in. He had to deal with security checkpoints to be sure, but it was a simple matter of saying he was going on lunch break and getting through them one at a time. Once out, he quickly rushed back to the Batmobile and took off for Layton's address. She wasn't listed, but the personnel file that he had found of her and copied had her actual address information for mailing purposes, so he took off, quickly changing in the car and stripping off the makeup, all while reading over the file. By the time he got to her apartment complex, he was back in his normal attire and ready to move.

He found a dark, out of the way spot to conceal the Batmobile about half a block away within an alleyway. From here, he used his grappling gun to get to the roof and approached from the higher position. This part of town itself wasn't the most crime-ridden portion of Gotham City, but it was still definitely low income. Those who lived here hovered around the poverty line for certain. The buildings seemed to be as old as the 1980s with none of them having seen major improvements since the 90s. That was pretty bad in and of itself, but it wasn't to the degree of urban decay as the rest of the city.

Sophia Layton's own apartment didn't stand out too much. It was in one of the less glamorous and nondescript buildings, one that specialized in apartments that weren't too far off from "cells" themselves…definitely something that only a lower-income user could take. Her bio revealed that she did actually have a degree as a Registered Nurse, so one might expect that she could afford a bit better than that. However, she apparently had a number of student loans to pay off still even after two years of employment, and institutions like Arkham weren't exactly renown for giving nurses what they were worth and usually even less than hospitals. Plus, the fact that this _wasn't_ in a crime ridden portion meant it was worth more to the landlord even if it was cheap, and so she probably had to pay a bit more to live here.

Getting in was a bit of an issue. There was a fire escape leading to it, but it had a wall-mounted AC unit in the window that had been blocked off by wood. He had to do the more "straightforward" way in order to get in, going through the roof access. Sneaking in, luckily, went fairly well. The halls were lit up and not filled with graffiti or vagrants, but there weren't a whole lot of people out at this time of night. Once he reached the door to her apartment, it was one of the simpler stock locks to pick. He got it open at a personal record of four seconds. After that, he stepped inside and turned on the lights via a lamp at a table, as there were no "ceiling mounted" lights.

A fairly small studio greeted him on the other side. Like a lot of younger people, it seemed she had a more current computer and entertainment system than apartment. She had decorated it a bit in "lighter" colors to give it a more warm and inviting atmosphere. On a side table near a "love seat" couch she had one of those more "bright tinted" lamps that had cheery colors around three different light bulbs, and she had a fluffy teddy bear resting on it, one of the ones big enough to use as a pillow. A couple pictures hung on the wall in small frames, obviously taken by a conventional camera. Most were of her grinning and posing in front of landmarks at Gotham University, although one was older and showed her posing in front of the House of the Blackheads in Riga, Latvia, and another was her posing with what he presumed were other "ethnic" Latvians in a classroom that seemed geared toward teaching English. Around the table she used for dining (having only a microwave and mini-fridge to use for a kitchen), she had fresh flowers in a pot and, hanging over it, a crucifix and a picture of a child hugging a lamb. The picture had text in Latvian written on it, which Batman recognized was the "serenity prayer". Nearby were a stack of books that included more nursing school textbooks, some chain-release books on how to befriend and 'reach' people, an arts-and-crafts magazine, a bird-lover's magazine, and a magazine highlighting Latvian theater companies. She also had a Bible, looking well-worn, placed by her single bedside. He went over to it and noticed another prayer, this one from St. Francis of Assisi, and also in Latvian.

_Obviously quite a devout woman…_ He thought. He had encountered people who embraced religion to the point of fanaticism before, but he didn't think this was the case here…or, at least, if it was, it wasn't the "dangerous" type of fanaticism. He looked through her things at this point, but came up with little more other than what he already knew. The books about trying to make relationships had been read extensively and highlighted even more than the college textbooks. She had her Bible bookmarked, but there were no passages about "condemnation", "judgment", or "fire" that she had notarized. Rather, she had passages such as Zaccheus the tax collector being inspired by Jesus to abandon his extortion practices and repay everything he had taken illicitly, or Paul being stricken by God on the road to Damascus and, as a result, going from being a persecutor of Christians to a Christian missionary himself, or Jesus driving out demons that had possessed people in what had to be, to modern doctors, sure signs of insanity. He noted one passage was heavily read in the book of Matthew:

* * *

_Then Peter came and said to Him, "Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me and I forgive him? Up to seven times?" Jesus said to him, "I do not say to you, up to seven times, but up to seventy times seven…"_

* * *

At any rate, there was nothing there that indicated a family life. Based on other memorabilia found around the apartment, Batman could conclude that the picture on the wall and any other things of note from Latvia were all from a one year period in recent history, right before she came over to the United States. She hadn't been back since, it seemed, and she maintained no contacts other than to get educational transfer credits. Those were a bit of work since she had changed her name. Everything else was from her time in the USA and Gotham City. And in most of the pictures, she looked rather happy and enthused to be there.

Yet Batman did key in on the fact that there was no contact with her native country other than a couple photos, and definitely none with friends or family. Even the caller ID was all local, with no out-of-country records. It didn't confirm his suspicions…but it certainly didn't deny them either. Especially since it seemed a tad unusual for an immigrant to come to America and not have the slightest ties back to her home country after being here only a few years.

Still, he had more than enough time to go through the whole apartment, turn off the lights, and get into one of his "positions" before Sophia returned. She seemed to have taken her time, which wasn't surprising given the events of that evening. Even after concluding the investigation, it was another fifteen minutes before a taxi pulled up to the base of the building. He could barely hear it and couldn't see it, due to the one window that had an AC unit in it already, but he did manage to detect it, and a couple minutes afterward he heard someone coming down the hall.

The lock was fumbled a moment later, and then unlocked and opened. A rather unhappy-looking woman was framed on the other side, still dressed in nursing scrubs under a light jacket, her backpack stuffed with the contents of her locker from Arkham Asylum, and her hands full too…along with what looked like a half-eaten shake from McDonald's. In spite of not looking to be a very heavy woman, it seemed, given the situation, she had gone for comfort food. But this late at night no ice cream places were open, which left only "shakes" from chain restaurants.

The woman looked like she had to be in her late twenties, with dark brown hair that was nearly black having outgrown a "fairy cut" and lovely blue eyes. Yet in spite of that, she had a very "young" demeanor about her, like she was fresh out of high school or even less "emotionally mature" than that. Even now, when she seemed to be more depressed than anything else, she had a sort of earnestness and youth about her. A "glow" that definitely wasn't present in the rest of the staff at Arkham. Even individuals like Aaron Cash had to "set their faces like flint" in order to maintain a decent attitude in such a place. Everyone had a grimness or unease about them. Not with this woman, however. Even now, she seemed to be like her apartment…a colorful flower blooming in the midst of an otherwise gray and bleak landscape.

At any rate, she reached over and switched on her lamp first, and then set her things down on her "mini-couch" before shutting the door and locking it. It wasn't until she turned around again and began to remove her coat that she gasped and recoiled, seeing the imposing figure of the dark knight within her apartment, pressing herself back up against the door and cupping her hands to her mouth.

Batman showed no change. "Sophia Layton?"

The woman blinked and trembled a bit, but then nodded. "Y…Yes…" She held a moment, and then spoke a bit more. "You…you're the 'Batman', aren't you? That vigilante in Gotham City who always brought the bigger inmates back…" She was so nervous that her American accent faltered a bit, oscillating at points between Latvian and American. "What…what are you doing here? What do you want with me?"

"I want to talk about the recent mass breakout from Arkham Asylum."

The woman continued to recoil for a bit, but then composed herself a little and shook her head. "I don't know anything about that. I wasn't even working that night. The police already asked me questions and I told them everything I knew."

"I've looked over your records, Ms. Layton. You have a history of trying to get 'closer' to the inmates in Arkham Asylum, including the ones that escaped."

Sophia paused on hearing that. "…I wouldn't say 'closer'. I just wanted to treat them more like human beings…"

"Attempting to have discussions with them…bringing them gifts… That's the reason you're here right now, isn't it? You're being let go for being too intimate with the patients."

She swallowed, clearly a bit surprised that Batman knew that, but then calmed again. "…Just because I wanted to be nice to them doesn't mean I thought they should have been released before they were sane."

"And did any of them convince you in thinking they were 'sane'?"

"Of course not!" She retorted, drawing herself up more. "They circulate stories about what…'Mr. Veidt'…" She said that last part with a bit of anxiety and reluctance. "…did to Dr. Quinzell, and we all know not to trust him whenever he acts like he's being cured. And none of the others even looked that way…"

"So why did you keep trying to talk to them when they obviously weren't improving?"

Sophia hesitated. She put her hands together, wrung them, and bowed her head a bit. "…I thought it could help at least…that maybe if someone treated them as if they were human they'd want to act more like that. If someone believed that they could be 'normal' they'd feel like they could be…"

Batman's eyes narrowed a bit. "Even if they don't _want_ to be made well?"

"They might some day." Sophia answered with a shrug. "It wouldn't hurt to let them know that there's someone there who believes they can…"

The dark knight didn't change. "You honestly believe after years of what they've done, as many people as they've hurt…that they can still turn around? That they might become 'normal'? Average citizens?"

"Of course!" The woman responded, pulling herself off the door, before looking to him curiously. "…Don't you?"

"After twenty years of this 'job', not really." Batman dully responded.

Sophia blinked. "…Really? Not even a little?"

"I've been foolish enough to think they could change before, and I ended up disappointed for it. They always return to their old ways in the end." The man responded. "And in the course of doing so, they make more innocents suffer. It may be the 'hopeful' thing to do, but it's not the wise or intelligent thing to do."

The woman didn't change.

"If that's true…then why do you keep bringing them in? If you think they're just going to go back to their old ways when they get out of Arkham…why bother taking them alive?"

Batman paused. For once, he found himself actually caught. He hadn't really expected that sort of question…and he realized Sophia had a decent point. He didn't really have a whole lot of 'faith' in the goodness of these individuals. Not after so long and so many disappointments over the years. They had showed time and time again they didn't have 'good sides' to appeal to. They had even gotten _worse_ over the years…more immoral…more depraved…more sickening for him to look at and deal with every time…

Enough to make him wonder more and more, as time went on…about how many it was going to take before he finally decided to 'stop them for good'…

Yet one thing he hadn't really thought of in the midst of this was the opposite side of the equation…what was _keeping _him from 'stopping them for good'? Why did he keep bringing them in time and again if he honestly thought they were just going to escape again and do worse than before? Was he caught up in such a routine…the "game", as the Joker, as much as he hated to admit it, would call it…that he wasn't even thinking about what he was doing anymore?

He pushed the thought from his mind. Now wasn't the time.

"…Let's get back to the breakout. What do you know about the staff in Arkham plotting a revenge scheme against them?"

Sophia held a moment, but then grimaced and bowed her head again. "I didn't know anything. I mean…I know what's what administration was talking about. That's what the police are starting to look into…right? That so many people on staff that night were trying something to kill them all?"

"What did they tell you?"

"Nothing. I don't even work with them on the same shift. I mean…maybe _once_ about three months ago I got rescheduled to that shift due to a staffing shortage, but that's it. Other than that I never even ran into them. I was as shocked as everyone else." She gave a helpless shrug. "I know nothing. Why are you even targeting me? Why do you think I'd have more information than any other employee of Arkham? It's not like the inmates ever told me anything…"

"When you came to the United States," Batman answered, ignoring this for the moment. "You changed your name, didn't you? It used to be Labdaris, didn't it?"

Now there was a visible change. He almost thought he saw the woman's pallor turn more wan. Her pupils visibly contracted.

"…Yes." She very slowly answered.

"Any relation at all to Klaudius Labdaris?"

The woman's knees nearly shook. Her head went to the ground, and she visibly tensed. One of her hands clutched and went nearer to her chest. For a moment…Batman spotted fear in her eyes. They almost seemed to shimmer as they looked to the ground. Yet it lasted only a time before she was able to swallow, although she braced herself against the couch. She soon began to move into the room afterward, trying to keep herself supported.

"Are you related to Dr. Klaudius Labdaris, Ms. Layton?" Batman asked again.

The woman swallowed, closing her eyes a moment, and taking in a deep breath. She seemed to compose herself here. For a moment, it had looked as if she was almost petrified with fear…even terror. However, she cleared her throat and was able to stand afterward. She spoke a bit more firmly, although still clearly shaken up.

"…I am." She finally admitted. "He's my father."

"Then perhaps you can tell me about his work." Batman answered. "The records from Latvia during his time of practice are incomplete at best."

Sophia trembled again here.

"Why…do you want to know about his…work?" She had to force that last word out.

"It might be a matter of life and death."

She hesitated again. Swallowing once more, she very slowly turned around and put herself on the couch, sitting down, but still looking "withdrawn", definitely like someone who was scared. She took in a deep breath afterward.

"…My father is a good man at heart. I believe that. I honestly do with all my soul. He…he…" She paused and swallowed. "He just wanted to do whatever was necessary to cure the insane. He saw insanity itself as his enemy…the evil within people as a personal affront…a monster he had to 'slay'. He…he was much like God in the time of the prophets…thinking the wicked needed a 'refining fire' to 'burn off' their evil so only good remained… I don't know everything about him…" She paused again. "Only what I learned later…or people told me… After all, it wasn't until nearly the fall of the Soviet Union that I was even born…long after the Russians tried to distance themselves from him…

"I found from him that, in school, when psychology was starting to move away from behavioralism…or 'exorcisms', as they did in some corners of Latvia…he delved into ideas of aversion therapy. He looked at other studies such as the early ones with 'Baby Albert' as well as later studies like the then-recent Stanford Prison Experiment and simulated Nazi torture trials. He claimed that those studies revealed how mankind could condition people in the 'wrong' way or coerce them to become evil, but he thought that just as easily the reverse could be true…that there was potential to coerce people into becoming 'good'…and that if therapy was intense and long-lasting enough, it might be possible to turn an immoral man into a moral one. But…"

She swallowed again.

"…But none of his ideas could work on animal subjects. After all, animals cannot be 'good' or 'evil'. He said he wished to test on humans…sentient individuals…ones who had a conscience. Naturally, his university wouldn't allow him and neither would anyone else… It was forbidden for such a thing in the scientific community… Yet…some of his theory papers while in school had gotten out to the Soviets, who were opening a program…"

"What kind of program?"

She shook her head. "I honestly don't know, and my father would never tell me because even now it would be dangerous to reveal it. It was classified by the then-USSR and that classification still stands today in Russia…" She paused. "…But I learned enough from it to guess what it was about over time. It…" She shook again, bowing her head lower. "It…it had to have involved brainwashing… I don't know what exactly. Maybe they wanted sleeper agents… Maybe they wanted to torture prisoners for information… I doubt, in any case, they cared enough about curing madmen…but they gave my father the resources and…and…'patients' he needed to test and develop his theories. Both the criminally insane…as well as people…who weren't." She simply ended the phrase with those two words, clearly not wanting to go into more of it.

"I never knew what he did for years. When I was born and grew up, father only told me 'I cure people who are sick in the head'. I thought he was wonderful for that. I thought he was doing a good thing. But…people would come by some times. Angry people. Sometimes sobbing. Sometimes wanting to assault my father. One even brought a gun one day… They were all upset, and it took me years to find out why. He opened a practice in his own asylum in Latvia. At first, it was a front for the Soviets and their methods, but gradually they backed off and let him treat civilians. But in either case…no one was ever allowed inside who didn't work there, and all were sworn to secrecy within. Eventually, stories started getting out, though. The insane went in, raving, mad, and psychotic…and then would come out…so calm that one would swear they had been lobotomized. But they hadn't been. They were peaceful now. They'd quietly do normal tasks. They were no longer threats to anyone…including themselves. They rarely talked and never showed emotion, but at least they didn't commit any more crimes, and that's what the government and their families wanted…at least at first…

"Then I heard they'd go crazy some days. One suddenly started throwing a violent fit…" She shuddered. "One…so strong he spasmed until he broke his own neck… Another…slit his wrists and hung himself in the middle of a wedding party… Another just started screaming…screaming and screaming…and wouldn't do anything except scream until he was exhausted and passed out…and when he woke up he'd start screaming again… And when that happened, I found out what my father had done…"

She wrung her hands as her eyes shook.

"One man had been a child rapist…so one of his _many_ treatments was to be chained to a table and forced to watch images of children with his eyes pried open; some that showed peaceful, innocent children doing nothing but being happy…and ones that showed children being violated sexually, which were always accompanied by electric shocks. The man was not allowed to sleep for 18 days during this treatment… Another man had been a pyromaniac. He was placed in a room surrounded by candles for a month. Every time he shifted his head away from one spot to look at one, he would be shocked and have water withheld from him while the temperature in the room was elevated…like a giant oven… Another man who was prone to violent outbursts that had killed two people during one…every time he had a mood swing he was locked in what was a giant, dark, wooden 'hamster wheel' with deep ridges inside it and rolled around for four hours, until he was exhausted and finally battered and bruised and bloodied by the excursion… These were only some of many…"

Batman took all of this in without showing any change, although he made notes of all of it. It was seeming more and more like he was on the right track with Klaudius Labdaris. "According to what few records I have, your father ended his 'practice' shortly before the fall of the Soviet Union."

She held a bit, but then nodded. "Only a few years after I was born. He didn't stop right away…just had to end most of his practices because they wouldn't cover up for him anymore. He tried being more of a 'traditional' psychologist after that but…that's when the people started coming in. The ones who once praised him for curing their family and friends now interviewing the survivors, now that the Soviets weren't protecting him anymore. On finding out what was happening…they ended up saying at least one out of four patients eventually killed themselves. Another one out of four became catatonic. Yet another one out of four acted as if they had severe post-traumatic stress disorder and needed additional help. My father defended himself at first…but more and more reports came in. When that happened…I saw the change in him. I saw how he stopped smiling. How he looked so much older…more sunken…more fearful…and more depressed. As I learned he wasn't the great man I once thought he was…he realized the same. His name became a disgrace in Latvia. Almost a taboo. No one would even mention him, and only when I tried to apply to schools myself did I realize what that meant. When people heard my name, I almost saw the changes in some in the professional field on their faces…and always they politely declined me. I had no choice until I started purposely misspelling my name. Eventually, I stopped using it at all…"

"Where is your father now?"

Sophia hesitated a moment. "…I don't know. I haven't talked to him in years. He became a recluse…living off a few trusts he had managed to funnel out of the accounts the Soviets set up for him before they could shut them down. But then…he just seemed to vanish…" She held again. "I…I haven't really talked to him in years… I kind of 'gave up' after a while…"

Batman noticed something. There was a slight change in tone and pacing in her words when she said this last part.

"…Do you have any idea at all where he might be?"

The woman looked up to him. She was silent a moment, then shook her head. "No. Why? What does it matter? He had no ties to getting my placement in Arkham Asylum. Even if his name wasn't a curse and a byword to the psychology community, he hasn't practiced in over 20 years."

"I'm not so sure about that." Batman answered. "The sixteen individuals who were under investigation for possibly assisting in the mass breakout at Arkham Asylum all had one uniting thread in common: each one of them had relatives who could be traced to Latvia…but, more importantly, ones that could trace being treated to what the records listed as 'Dr. Klaudius Labdaris'."

Now…there was a large change.

The color vanished from Sophia's face. Her mouth loosened, and her pupils went all the way into pinpricks.

"Wh…what?" She practically exhaled.

"There's more. There were crates associated with the disappearance. Crates that bore machines that seemed ideally suited toward restraining psychotic patients. Crates that had been shipped from Latvia."

If Sophia had been holding onto something, she would have dropped it at that time. She leaned back, looking suddenly weak. She nearly fell back against the couch. The fear was more than evident. Her head bowed again and her mouth remained hung open. Something was definitely going through her mind.

"I have reason to believe your father has 'reopened' his practice, Ms. Layton. Therefore, if you have any idea where he could be operating from, it's important that I know. After what you told me, I strongly believe your father has acquired eight 'new patients' from Arkham Asylum."

The woman held a bit longer. She blinked once…twice. Her mouth slowly closed. Finally, her eyes shut.

"…I know nothing." She said very quietly.

Batman's own gaze narrowed. "Lives may be at stake, Ms. Layton."

"I said I know nothing. Please leave."

"Lives that _you_ claim were worth saving. Ones who might be undergoing the same torture you heard about before-"

"I said I know nothing!" Sophia suddenly outburst, not looking up or opening her eyes, but her face tightening up. "I'm sorry…I really am! I wish I did know something about all this! Now more than ever! But I don't even have a phone number! Now…" She clenched her teeth and swallowed again, before drawing her arms around herself. "Please…please leave." She said in a quieter voice. "I can't help you."

The dark knight looked over her a moment longer. There was something else here. He could tell that right here and now. Something she was definitely hiding. Whether it was what he wanted to know or merely another painful memory was up for debate, but it was something that was shaking her to the core. One thing was clear now…there could be no doubt in Batman's mind that Klaudius Labdaris was behind this. It fit in with what he had learned from Gorman and the others. They all seemed to have an idea that the inmates were 'going to get it'. No doubt, if they had connections to Labdaris, they knew about his methods. They knew that the Arkham inmates would be psychologically and physically tortured to the breaking point…perhaps even killed as a result. In any event, they'd have 'their revenge'… Unfortunately, this also meant not only that it was more imperative than ever to find them…but that he was back to square one.

At least…for the moment.

By now, Sophia's eyes were squeezing out tears in spite of being closed, and she continued to hold herself in that position. Batman gave her a long look…and then finally silently turned for the door. He wasn't finished with her…but he knew he could get nothing more from her now. His mind was already working on what was the best way to proceed from-

It cut off as his body turned, and for a brief moment he paused.

His eyes had drifted to the window with the AC unit. It was mostly boarded to provide a frame to keep the environment out, and the top half was curtained…but there was just a crack of window still clear that allowed him to look outside and across the street to the darkened building on the opposite side.

And, for just a moment, he saw a circular gleam get hit by the light of a passing car to illuminate it for a fraction of a second.

A telescopic lens of someone looking into Sophia Layton's apartment.

He moved normally a moment later. If he suddenly burst for it, those watching would know immediately. Even if they didn't, Sophia would go into a panic, as emotionally distraught as she was right now. Instead, he moved smoothly as he turned to the door, opened it, and walked out, making sure to close it behind him. The moment that the latch clicked…he took off like a shot.

In no time at all, he had reached the stairwell. Cape fluttering behind him, he tore up the stairs, taking them two at a time in an almost running gait. On reaching the top of the roof, he burst through the door to the access. Once outside, he quickly dashed for the edge opposite the window he had just seen. There wasn't much in the way of awnings in the apartment building he was in, but he jumped off the side and descended onto a protuberance of bricks none the less. A rather nerve-wracking plunge and landing, to be sure, but he had done the same in far more stressful situations and by now it was practically routine. He was just glad the bricks held this time. In a moment, he went to his belt and emerged with his line launcher. Holding it up in one hand, he quickly took aim and pressed the trigger. To the tune of a pair of pneumatic eruptions, harpoons were fired…one instantly embedding in the building behind him and the other shooting across and locking into the space above the window he was just at. A moment later, his body was racing across the street, suspended over a hundred feet in the air by the line, and making contact with the window. He smashed through it, releasing the line at the same time, and threw himself inside into the darkness within, his legs lashing out for whatever was closest and dropping into a crouch.

Unfortunately, all he ended up tackling, he found in short order, was a telescope with a tripod. The rest of the room was too dark to see anything else, but he heard no signs of human activity or presence. Clenching his teeth a bit, he reached for his belt and switched on his light. The room was bathed in a white glow, and revealed little. It was nothing more than a basic room that had clearly not been in use except by people who had done so illegally. The only furnishings were portable chairs and a table. There was some refuse of coffee cups and a fast food bag or two, but other than that there was only a power adaptor still plugged into an outlet and the scope that he had just landed on. It was designed for a camera to screw into it, but the camera itself was gone. Most of the area looked strewn about with one of the chairs knocked over, and the door to the place was hanging open and ajar. Batman had a feeling if he looked further ahead, he'd find the entrance from the hall into the chamber that contained this room was empty as well.

_Too late…_ He thought to himself. _Perhaps they ran for it as soon as they saw me arrive…_

_But the fact that someone was actually here in the first place is more than a bit unsettling. This tripod was aimed right at Layton's apartment. Someone was watching her. It makes sense… Someone got the inmates of Arkham Asylum out of Gotham City who wasn't the sixteen people at the island. There have to be hundreds of people in this city who would jump at the chance if Labdaris managed to find sixteen and get them hired. That wasn't the act of someone moving 'at random'. He had a plan he had been waiting months to execute if not longer. It's reasonable to assume he knew all about me and tried to plan for me too…or at least the police. He had to be afraid that someone would eventually sniff him out…and if they did, then they had to realize the first person that the police or I would go to would be Sophia._

_And now…he knows that _I_ know he's behind it._

_The police wouldn't be much of a concern if he's out of the country. They don't have jurisdiction, after all. But he probably knows I'm another matter entirely…_

This was getting more serious than he had thought all the time. What did that mean now that Labdaris was aware someone "had his trail"? What would it mean for the inmates at Arkham? Or him, for that matter? Was Labdaris only expecting the police? Had he somehow been aware he was interrogating the guards from Arkham? What if that drone that had been left behind _wasn't_ a mistake? What if it had been intended for him to find it and have it attack?

He didn't know. All he knew is that this investigation had been going for a week…and that from what Sophia had said irreversible damage was done to patients in only three weeks. And that was Labdaris' 'older' methods. Since then, he had to have upgraded considerably considering the new drone and the virus he had implemented.

While the "investigation phase" of this was still technically ongoing in spite of him being down to only one new lead, namely Sophia Layton herself, Batman began to suspect he better start "suiting up" for combat from now on…

* * *

_To be continued..._


	4. Chasing a Specter

Luckily, going back and bugging Layton's apartment wasn't that hard. She was still inside, and it was only a studio, so he had to wait for her to fall asleep before he could tag any of her personal effects. But before that, he put a receiver with a small transmitter on her door. Alone, the device couldn't give much of a signal, but it could get enough to go to a signal booster he set up on the roof, which, in turn, sent the signal on to him. Once she went to bed at last, which wasn't until near dawn, he quickly went back into the apartment again, bugged her phone and main room as well, and then quickly withdrew himself.

He was sure Layton was going to make a move soon. She had been hiding something earlier, obviously. In spite of not having any phone numbers written down or in her phone, Batman doubted that she didn't have any contact with her father at all…or, at minimum, any way to get in touch with him. Therefore he put off sleep for the time being, focusing instead on watching her actions. Unfortunately, she had been up most of the night and so when she went to bed, she stayed that way well into the next day. This was a bit of a strain on him. Although he wasn't perfectly rigid about only coming out as Batman at night, the fact remained he was used to using this time to "be Bruce Wayne". He ended up having to conduct most of his business from the phone, as a result, and used the moment to send along a message to the other "members of the family" with an update on status. It would keep them from chasing any more wild geese, at any rate.

Unfortunately, again, the investigation hit a slowdown. Whatever he had said had definitely made an impact on Sophia, because other than light movement, she didn't say a word for nearly another twenty hours. No phone calls. No outside communication. She didn't even leave her apartment after waking up. Finally, near the end of the next day, she got a call from Arkham Asylum which was finalizing various procedures for firing…but that was it. Nothing else. She just sat there afterward. And since she had been fired, she honestly had nowhere else to go. Night fell, and she continued to move around. She turned on the TV once or twice…but then she went back to bed.

By that time, Batman set an alarm for the next signal that was picked up on his planted bugs and hit the sack himself. He was a bit reluctant to do so at night, for a change…but there was no reason not to. Gotham was quiet. Doing better than ever, in fact. One of the local autumn music festivals ended up having a somewhat bigger turnout than projected as the city had been so still as of late. Buying power was continuing to pick up as well. People were standoffish to get too optimistic, but he managed to listen in on several companies and found that they were beginning to plan "fast-track" events for the city, seeming to take advantage of the interim without heavy crime. Even the inmates at Blackgate seemed to be doing less "trouble" nowadays. And Red Robin, who had been keeping an eye on the Iceberg Lounge thinking one of the inmates might arrive, found out that operations were moving a bit slower. After all, these had been the "psychos"…not individuals that the mobs could move in on the territory of. And since they weren't around to hire the typical crowd of thugs and henchmen, things were slow on that end as well.

Gotham City was, to be honest, quiet. And now had been so for eight days.

After a few hours, Batman awoke and resumed his stakeout…and saw nothing. Sophia had gone to bed again and was still in bed. At this point, he began to wonder if it would be simpler just to notify the commissioner and have an official police stakeout. Once he relayed everything he knew so far, it would be more than enough to have the police consider her a person of interest. However, he realized that might not be possible. The only concrete thing they had at the moment was a connection to a potential suspect, and that was only enough to have the police "keep her on speed dial"…not to stake her out. To be honest, Batman was a bit nervous about staying off the streets…but there was little need. The other local vigilantes were taking care of the petty crimes, and that's all there was right now…petty crimes. As yet another day passed with Layton barely making a move in or out of her apartment, still nothing. Evening fell again…and nothing.

Nine days now, with nothing to show for it.

At this point, Alfred had come down into the Batcave several times to check on him, but he had taken off the Batsuit and hadn't even bothered putting it back on. He actually had gone ahead and watched a movie or two and went through his training routines while waiting…but still no change. It was making him tense up a bit. He knew what had to be going on with the inmates, and yet here he was…sitting around waiting for his one lead to say something instead of trying to pursue anything else. Lives were at stake, but all he could do was wait…

Again, he wondered if it really was "all" he could do.

He supposed he could have looked into Latvia again. It wasn't a large country. There had to be clues there. Something that stood out that signified the eight arriving or moving. He could have shook down the various staff members again, telling them more about Labdaris and what he was doing. Perhaps it wouldn't generate enough sympathy for the criminals…but maybe his nature would at least make them talk. He could have even gone back to Layton's apartment and tried to get the information out of her again. Yet he wasn't doing any of that. He was sitting here and waiting. This may have been good enough for the police…but with all of his resources and natural faculties, was he really "reduced" to just waiting for word from Layton? Could he do more if he put some more "effort" into it?

He didn't know…at least…he _hoped_ he didn't know…

He began to wonder if subconsciously he had other ideas…

He thought of the torture that Layton had spelled out to him in their conversation. He wondered if being submitted to an oven was as bad as laughing so hard you couldn't breathe and eventually snapped your own neck, leaving you dead with a sickening grin on your face. He wondered if electrocution was as bad as having your face or hand bitten off and devoured by a psychotic cannibal right in front of you. He wondered if being made to run in a great wooden wheel was _half _as bad as spending a week stricken by fear toxin until at last, so desperate for suicide, you clawed out your own throat with your fingernails.

Most of all...a part of him wondered if the sum measure of all of the pain and suffering those eight inmates had caused over the course of their careers, each of whom planned to cause infinite more for the rest of their natural lives, who felt no fear or respect for the law or remorse or pity for their fellow man and were totally confident that they could continue doing so forever...could ever possibly be "outweighed" by whatever torment Labdaris was devising...

At any rate, after two days, around 8 PM on the third evening…he finally got a break. He had nearly been nodding off at the computer again when it beeped. Immediately, he looked up, and saw a signal that indicated that the cell phone was being used. A moment later, he heard a ringing tone come from the computer, transmitting from her cellular. He straightened up soon after as he began to hear words.

_"__Rapidia Travel Services, direct line access.. How may I help you?"_

_ "__Hello…I need to book a flight from Gotham International Airport, United States to Riga, Latvia as soon as possible."_ The voice of Sophia Layton answered…clearly still tense and uneasy.

_"__Round trip or one way?"_

A pause. _"…One way."_

_"__One moment, please." _There was a sound of some typing. After about a minute, there was an answer. _"I have one flight leaving tonight and one leaving tomorrow with one stop."_

_ "__I'll take the one for tonight, if you please."_

_ "__It's an Air France ticket, miss. The price is $2,568 dollars without tax."_

There was a lengthy pause on the line, and finally a sigh.

_"…__How much for the ticket tomorrow evening?"_

_ "__That's Turkish Airways. It's about $858 dollars without tax."_

_ "…__I have to take that one. It's all I can afford."_

_ "__Would you like to pay over the phone or at the terminal?"_

_ "__The terminal. I'm between credit cards."_

_ "__Alright…" _Some extended typing. _"1 one-way ticket to Riga, Latvia. 14 hours, 45 minutes estimated time, departs tomorrow evening at 10:15 PM with arrival time at 7:35 PM the next day. Will this complete your order?"_

_ "__Yes."_

_ "__The cost of the ticket will come out to $937.98 plus taxes and fees. Please have your passport ready and arrive early for security clearance. Thank you!"_

_ "__Thank you…"_

The phone clicked.

Batman switched off the reception from the transmitter and leaned back soon after, rubbing his chin and thinking this over. Layton obviously had been impacted quite a bit by yesterday's discussion. In spite of claiming she knew nothing…he had a feeling she was running back to Latvia after hearing about this. She appeared to genuinely know nothing about what her father was doing prior to their meeting, but she had to have some sense of where he was, and now she was going to him. She had looked devastated at what he did…but she had also said she honestly believed he was "a good man". And given her nature, that meant she was likely running to him to try and tell him to "stop this madness" or something like that…

_Well…_ Batman thought to himself. _I wanted a lead…and now I have it. The question is…what move do I make now?_

That was actually a bit more difficult that it seemed at first. Gotham City was peaceful for the moment, but, at any time, other criminals or the mob could try and take advantage of this "momentary peace". The playing field was "clear" for other insane inmates in Arkham to make a move, after all. Sure, for now, individuals like Red Robin, Nightwing, and…in spite of his chagrin…the Huntress were handling things all by themselves. Yet that could change in an instant. Major criminal minds were still in the city, after all. He hadn't heard anything from Bane or Sionis in a while…which was usually a sign of a "calm before the storm". He wouldn't entirely put things past Cobblepott either, even with Red Robin keeping his eye on him. And even if he wasn't planning on them causing trouble, if any of them made a move, they _would_ be doing so with him responding in mind along with the rest of the vigilantes in Gotham City. If he did this, it was going to have to be a rather long "out of town" trip. Latvia wasn't one of his more "familiar" destinations, either. Which meant he didn't have ready access to equipment or facilities. The nearest Wayne Enterprises affiliate he could make use of was in Sweden, but it didn't have any "Batman-related" facilities there. The nearest place he had was in a Wayne Enterprises branch factory in Poland, practically in Germany, and that was little more than a storage garage where he could put the Batwing. Either way, he'd have to rely mostly on whatever he brought and contact with mercenary groups to get him where he needed to go. The smarter course would be to take a private jet licensed by a smaller private company…but doing so meant he would have to either store or leave behind a great deal of equipment. Plus, even if he succeeded, getting the eight inmates _back_ to Gotham City would be a trial in and of itself. He'd be violating all manner of extradition laws to do so, and that meant he'd need a rather great plan for moving them back out as well. All such things would take time. He'd probably have to start making his plans and moves soon if he was going to manage to beat Layton to Riga and still be "ready" for everything that would come afterward. This was leading to him going into a potentially highly dangerous situation with little in the way of backup, and being stuck in the situation for days…during which Gotham City would be "Batman-Free" along with everything else.

Still…what choice did he have? The alternative was to try and contact the authorities overseas. And his word would only have so much impact with the Latvian government. He'd have to go through Gordon, who, in turn, would have to go through a multitude of other legal channels and red tape. It could take weeks before word got to Riga, and when it did…then what? They couldn't say: "Please follow this woman so she'll hopefully lead you to a man who is a suspect in a mass kidnapping from American soil."

Much as he hated this, he realized this was the only course of action to take now. He only hoped that Gotham could "stay quiet" during this excursion…

* * *

"And to think, Master Bruce, that I was just getting used to seeing more of you at home."

Alfred mentioned this as he set down a laundry basket on one of the tables in the Batcave. It was filled with the usual things that one would expect for travel: socks, underwear, shirts, pants, a suit or two, toiletries, etc. It was near a rather average-looking suitcase and a steamer trunk…at least on the outside. The inside, however, revealed that the linings were actually interlaced fabric with digital sensors throughout them, and a small device wired into the sides to go with them. The result was that the fabric emitted a special signal that nullified x-rays at airport security, resonating with them. However, Batman would still need "conventional" luggage to put in front of it in order to look innocent enough.

The suitcase was already filled with a Batsuit. Not his best kind, and certainly not his armored type, but rather one that utilized less Kevlar and space for items. It had to be small enough to fit in one suitcase. He had been foolish enough on a similar excursion once to split the Batsuit over two cases, and when one got delayed…he found himself unable to go out due to having an incomplete suit. He wouldn't make that mistake again. He needed it in one case, and not a large one so he could grab it and it alone in a crisis. The trunk had more room, but, to be honest, there was still only so much he could put in there. Ideally he would take all sorts of luggage with him when going into unfamiliar territory…but that too was impossible given his current plan.

"Did you make the call to Fox?" He asked the butler as he covered the smaller case.

"Yes sir. I notified him that you were so thrilled by your recent dinner that you have a new enkindled passion for tennis, and you have decided to travel to France to track Monsieur LeBlanc's performance, and possibly engage in some sightseeing once that is done, and to spread this message. I have already phoned one of your 'stand-ins' to go to the airport tomorrow using a passport that is registered with your number to make the trip aboard your private jet. I also took the liberty of making contacts to form a story about a 'broken toe requiring a hospital stay' if you need to remain 'away from Gotham' any longer, sir."

"And my _other_ ticket?"

"Already prepared. I charted a private flight with a small yet reputable company and picked you out suitable attire that I felt matched with the makeup for your alias persona you plan to disembark as. Knowing your fondness for speedy departures, they will be departing Gotham Regional Airport in four hours, three minutes and have been paid in advance to leave with or without you, sir, but I'm expecting you will still be there in plenty of time."

After adjusting his flap on his suitcase, Batman readily went over to the basket, removed some of the socks and underwear, and began to cover the contents of his case with them. In no time, it was filled, and he closed it and locked it soon after, adjusting the combination as he did so. In the end, he had elected to go straight to Riga. There were complications any way he looked at it, but it seemed to be the least complicated of the two. There was no way to make the flight "nonstop", but by his calculation he should still beat Layton to Latvia by two hours minimum. That was one of the reasons he was only taking two cases. He couldn't struggle under more than that, but also, more luggage would look suspicious. He wasn't exactly sure what was going to happen on arrival in Riga, but he knew from his week of research that Labdaris wasn't located in it. It was simply the only place that Sophia could arrive in. Once there, she would likely go out to a different city or the country, and he had to follow. That meant whatever hotel room he had rented would have his luggage inside it for an extended period with him not there to watch it. Therefore, the room he had booked had been at one of the cheaper hotels that was clearly struggling. He had offered four months worth of rent for only a single month's stay, along with a generous tip, under the condition that he be given total privacy in his room for the entire month. The manager couldn't afford to say no to such an offer, and so the deal was done. He planned to hire additional people to keep an eye on the room and make sure the staff kept to the bargain on arrival, but that would do for now. The point being…two suitcases wasn't terribly notable, even if one was a trunk, but seven or eight in a room indicated he might have been bringing something that shouldn't have been there.

Choosing gear for the trunk, however, had given him considerable pause. He couldn't afford to take much under these circumstances. His standard belt was one item, which contained his flashlight, Bat-tracers, recorder and minicam, and a crime-scene investigation equipment. He also made sure to take a medkit that had drugs that were mostly antiviral in nature. He included some of his analysis equipment but, sadly, he would need facilities afforded by the Batcave or the Batcomputer to be able to synthesize vaccines. He had brought along a supply of vaccine for the virus he had isolated from the mouse, but there was no telling if the virus had mutated or if Labdaris had alternate strains with different purposes, so it might not help. His standard grapple gun, line launcher, and a few small pre-packaged explosives were also along. In terms of weaponry, he only brought a dozen Batarangs. He had packed about thirty Bat-darts, however, each one loaded with a tranquilizer so potent that it would keep its target unconscious for three days. In addition, he had packed about sixteen EMP Grenades. These weren't the standard sort, however, which had a seven foot radius. He had shortened this one to three feet. He couldn't afford to make it any larger. After all, his own equipment would be knocked out by an EMP, and he intended to use these on more of those dummies of the doctor's if they tried to stop him again.

These already took up quite a bit of room in the trunk, and at the moment he was trying to decide on the last few components. The one thing he hated about this mission would be being "deaf and blind" in Latvia, with no access to the Batcomputer or any other resources he had under his power. There wasn't even the time to arrange to ship a Batmobile overseas. And his analysis had determined that Latvian airspace was under a watchful eye of the Russians if no one else. He might be able to orchestrate two or three "missions" if he was able to ship a special collapsed version of the Batwing to the Polish facility and keep it away from prying eyes, which, if given a day or two, he was certain Fox could work out…but that would leave him in the dark at first and would allow him only two or three contacts with help from the outside world. Plus, he wasn't sure exactly what sort of mission loading he could get, or what he would need yet. After all, he was very much "in the dark" about what could arise…

Alternatively, he thought of bringing a relay that could bounce a signal from Riga to his personal communication devices no matter where he went, so he would at least have clear and continuous access to Oracle and Fox if he needed to make any emergency shipments to the "quartered off" region of the Polish facility. Yet that was dangerous. He could get it through airport security, but once in Latvia, it was a clear signal that something was up if it was discovered, especially if it was taken apart and analyzed to determine how sophisticated it was. In addition, it was bulky. He wanted something that could operate over a very small area, ideally, and be inconspicuous. But his devices of that nature would work only at a distance of 50 miles at best. So, essentially, it came down to the transmitter for continuous direct access or more beacons for contact via Batwing flybys…which would entail more preparation to ensure it didn't raise any heads in Poland to begin with…

"Shall I notify Ms. Barbara to 'keep her ears open' for contact from you, sir?"

"Yes, but I'm not sure how many clear transmissions I'll be able to get." Batman responded. "Just in case, however."

"I explained the situation to Master Tim as well."

"What did he have to say about it?"

"He seemed somewhat disappointed that he would not be accompanying you, sir, but he agreed to get a relay to the Batcomputer in order to stay in contact as well. He also asked if this meant that Wayne Manor would be empty for the next week, including the weekend."

Batman paused. "…What did you tell him?"

"I reminded him that as he does not currently reside here and has not yet claimed his inheritance, that your word still stands as the 'supreme ruling' regarding guest policy. Therefore, while he is welcome to stay in any room within the manor he wishes, there are to be no unwelcomed guests here without your acquiescence. However, I also said if he truly wished for more personal interaction while staying here, I have not had a good game of backgammon in years."

The man smiled again in response as he turned back to the trunk. "I pretty much already know I can count on you to keep the 'wild parties' to a minimum, Alfred."

"Or at least have them fully straightened up prior to your return, sir."

Batman paused at that, blinking, and then looked up. However, the butler had merely removed the last few items from the laundry basket and turned, beginning to take the now-empty basket back upstairs. After a moment, he let out a small chuckle, and then resumed his work.

* * *

The trip went pretty much according to plan. Batman had indeed packed, once again slapped on some older age makeup to hide most of his features, took the phony passport, clothes, and his two "special" suitcases, and headed out for Gotham Regional Airport. Mostly a private airfield with no gates or terminals, it was a nice place to take off from as opposed to Gotham International. Far less conspicuous. He would never have done so as Bruce Wayne, just the same, however. That was far too much of a well-known face and identity. Luckily, he knew enough of how to reproduce a near-flawless phony passport. It may not have been legal, but it was necessary. Soon he was on the plane and taking off for Latvia.

As it turned out, after using the trip to catch up on some rest, not knowing when the next time would come that he could afford one. He woke up when the flight still had plenty of time to go, just in time for the stop in Paris, France, to refuel. Once that was done, they again got up and flew for Riga, and arrived a few hours later. On disembarking, Batman checked the time and found they were only eight minutes late. Grateful for the lack of a delay, he himself took his things when the crew unloaded them and went from there.

It was a bit nerve-wracking, being outside of Gotham. Considering some of the places he had been, a foreign country where he spoke the language should have been small potatoes. It was October but, unlike many other places a bit further east, Latvia was temperate. It wasn't any worse than the United States, and better than a great number of places inside it. It was a bit cloudy on his arrival, clearly signaling a shower brewing, but nothing too bad. Still…this wasn't his normal "sphere of influence". And even if he could get in normally culture-wise, even a stay in Metropolis would have left him feeling uneasy, much less Riga. There was no Commissioner Gordon here. No relationship with local authorities or reputation. Not even legal jurisdiction. No…he was definitely at a "disadvantage" here, and he kept that in mind as he left the airport.

A taxi ride later and he made his way to the struggling hotel where he would be staying. He checked in personally with the manager, making sure only to speak the local language and in the dialect the whole time. He didn't need anyone hanging on the fact that he was an American. He was soon led to his room which, just as he had also pre-ordered for, had a nice balcony with window doors that could be walked out of…and led only to a dark, dirty alley behind the hotel, clearly the result of a later building's construction and the hotel not having enough money to remove it. It would do nicely.

By that time, there was only about forty-five minutes left, so he moved fast. In ten minutes, he had set up all of his equipment and gotten out the Batsuit. Five minutes later he was in it and fully armed. That done, he went out the window and headed for the roof. It had been years since he had tried to get around in an inner city without the aid of a vehicle, and he didn't really "miss" his former ways of getting around…one of which was little more than jumping on the roofs of cars. But unless he got to a major building, he couldn't exactly employ the glider in his cape. At least there were busses. Ones loud and noisy enough to where no one riding them would hear him landing on them. However, not knowing the schedule, he had to alternate between jumping on them and going via the rooftops. It was a bit of a reckless way to go, but he managed to use it to finally work his way across town. All in all, that took about another thirty minutes to finally reach the airport. He wasn't too stressed, however. He knew getting through customs had been a lot easier for someone like him than someone going in through the main airport. Plus she would have to wait longer for luggage and the sort.

When it came into view, he fired a grappling line to get himself to the roof of the nearest building that had a view of the front of the terminal. There were a lot of entrances here, and a lot of people…and normally finding Layton would have been too much of a challenge even for him. However, he still had one other item in his favor…namely the bug on her phone. And when he activated his transmitter, sure enough, he got a signal from within the airport. He left it on that channel afterward, looking to see if she would make any more phone calls.

As it turned out, as he settled into a spot and got out his binoculars, she did indeed. Unfortunately, they didn't say much at first. There were three separate phone calls made, and each one turned up nothing but ring tones, whoever was on the other end obviously not saying much. Shortly afterward, however, he caught the transmitter closing the distance. He didn't have one with enough range to be terribly accurate from where he was, but it was enough to get her coming for the doors. And when she neared, he aimed his binoculars out and scanned the doors.

Layton appeared through the doors a moment later. Surprisingly enough, she didn't have a suitcase at all. Rather, she had a backpack that was clearly meant to be used for a great deal of country excursion. Judging by the fact that it had a water bottle strapped to the side, a compass dangling from her hip, a jacket tied around her waist, and hiking boots on her feet…she clearly expected to spend some time outside.

She looked around a bit on leaving the airport, looking past the people and around toward the street. A moment later, she waved her hand as one of the airport cab services drew near. It saw her and stopped, and immediately she went over to him and began to say something in Latvian. Batman hadn't really brushed up on his ability to read lips in that language even though he spoke it…but it didn't matter as that wasn't his concern now. He had something else that caught his eye.

As Layton had emerged from the terminal, he had noticed three men who appeared to simply either loitering around the front or move around the same luggage bags or looking at the same cars go by, react. They noticed her when she emerged. And when she did, one of them automatically flagged another cab. They didn't give the driver any place to go, however, but rather held him only until the woman got in her own cab. Only then did he get into this one, without giving the driver any requests, along with the other two men. A moment later, when the first cab went off, the second followed it.

It seemed Batman wasn't the only one who had tracked Layton here. Quickly, he sprung to his feet and took off on the rooftop. If the cab went into the inner city, it would be fast enough to follow on foot…but if he wasn't careful he'd lose her long before then. Neither cab was in a very good position, but as he ran he quickly got out one of his standard transmitters from his belt. Luckily for him, the pneumatics in his basic grapple gun could be reconfigured on the fly to launch one of them. He did so as he pulled off the adhesive end, took aim at the nearest cab, which ended up being the one of Layton's pursuers, and fired. In spite of the bad shot, it made it, tagging onto the rear end of the fender. That done, he quickly put the gun away, got out the transmitter, recalibrated it, and continued his pursuit as he jumped off of the current roof, spread out his "wings", and glided to the next.

Sure enough, it didn't take long for both cabs to vanish from view, but his transmitter had enough range to keep track of them for at least a two mile distance. Still, he'd have to be fast. He only dashed over two more roofs before reaching one of the main roads in town, and from there he leapt off and landed on another bus. It wasn't going in the exact direction he wanted, but it went in enough to keep the cab from getting out of range. When it went one way and the bus went another, he cut to another bus and followed it from there a bit longer. For a moment, he actually closed this distance a bit, but eventually it turned off again. There were no busses this time, but there was an old farming truck loaded down with sheep. He leapt onto this instead, and managed to keep up after them, especially since it seemed this one was lucky enough to be going the same road as they were.

All in all, the tailing lasted about 45 minutes. It was definitely dark by then, and the cars moved away from the busy inner streets more toward the quieter, emptier parts of town that were closing up for the day. It wasn't truly "on the outskirts", just in a place that was "cheaper" and a bit less crowded during the evening. It seemed like the older parts of Riga. Definitely fewer people around. The occasional car or pedestrian, to be sure, but not as consistent as before. Sophia couldn't possibly know she was being followed. If she did, she would never have gone to this part of town and left herself so vulnerable.

Yet after a time, the tracer suddenly got a lot closer. Seeing that, Batman realized the cab had to have stopped. He wasn't sure if the driver would hang around or keep going, but in any event…he knew that meant they were disembarking, so he had to be on them soon. Luckily for him, shortly after the cab began to move again, he came up on a street corner where they had to have been let out. It was dark aside for some street lamps which were more "low to the ground" rather than hanging overhead, and provided little illumination, but his knowledge of his own "gadgetry" let him deduce that this was the location where he noted the cab stopped based on the reading. Although the cab itself was nowhere to be seen by the time he pulled in, and neither were its passengers, he nevertheless used his grapple gun to launch himself onto the next nearest rooftop when the sheep wagon kept moving.

As the truck roared off, he looked on down the road. A moment later, he managed to catch a glimpse of one of the men. Between the darkness and the lack of lighting it was hard to make out, especially since it seemed the men were dressed in darker clothing to begin with. However, he spotted a bare spot on the back of one of their necks of skin, acting as a "signal" to him, and immediately he took off in that directly. Soon after, he heard the sound of footsteps clicking on the pavement over his own silent running. A bit closer, and his own darkness-adjusted eyes began to make out the men advancing rapidly down the road. Further ahead of them was the tell-tale backpack of Layton, moving along as she walked.

Shortly after spotting her, she looked behind her momentarily…and spotted the three men. He could see the anxiety appear in her body language almost immediately, even in the darkness. She turned away and tried to walk a bit faster, for a moment, it seemed, thinking it might have been her imagination. But a moment later, when she turned back around, and saw they had only picked up speed to match hers, she turned back and began to go into a jog. She heard their footsteps increase their pace behind her soon after, and as a result went into a run.

Unfortunately for her, there was no contest. The men, realizing she had picked up on them, weren't about to let her run for long. They were still in a district with occasional pedestrians and cars. They couldn't risk her getting the idea to shout for help or even be out in the open that long, and soon broke into their own full-speed run. And with her under a heavy backpack, it didn't take long for one of the more able-bodied men to catch up to her and come in from her right, grabbing for her shoulder. She let out an exclamation and tried to turn for a side street to get away, but Batman could tell that had been partially the intention of her pursuers as they drove her into a more secluded lane that was little more than a glorified alley, more "out of view" of anyone who could help her. He had seen it hundreds of times before in Gotham City, after all. And once she was there, the other men began to catch up. She struggled to run further from them, but they soon overtook her again, enough to snatch her backpack. She held a moment before managing to wrench free, but the result was she stumbled and ended up tripping, crashing down into the road.

The men didn't immediately grab her, but they quickly spread out. With one side to the wall, they took the other three, cornering her. As she struggled to pick herself up, she opened her mouth to cry out…

Only to have one of the men draw a gun with a silencer and point it at her.

"Miss Labdaris, please don't scream." He said in Latvian. "Your father doesn't want you hurt or damaged, but that's only secondary to bringing you in."

Sophia's eyes widened as she pushed herself up and out of the road. "My…my father? So it's true? He really _is_ behind what happened in Gotham City?"

"You'll be coming with us now." The man simply answered. "And the first thing you can do is hand over your cellular phone. You won't be making any calls for the next few weeks."

The woman got onto her rear, and shrank back a bit, looking up to the three men fearfully.

"But…but why is he doing this?! I thought he was done! He _told_ me he was done!"

"That's of no concern to us. We only do what the doctor hired us for."

"But why does he want me?"

"To keep your mouth shut." The man answered. "The moment he enacted his plan in Gotham City, he figured that the police might possibly scrape together enough clues to find you, and that you, in turn, would lead the authorities to him. The police in America could do little about it, but if you were to return to Latvia, with your citizenship, you could make a case to the local authorities rather easily. We can't have that. The doctor won't allow you to interrupt treatment in the middle of a session. And the men left behind in Gotham City to monitor you revealed you have had a talk with the vigilante they call 'the Batman', the one who knows these current patients the best. We didn't make a move on you there as it would have made things all too obvious. Now that you have 'come home', however…"

The woman shrank back a bit more. The other two men began to advance from either side.

"Come quietly, Miss Labdaris. Think of this as a 'vacation' of sorts. You'll be given a clean, pleasant room in the asylum…nothing like what the patients are receiving. And in a few weeks, it will all be done."

"No!" The woman shot back. "I know what my father does… I know how he'll 'treat' these people! I can't abide it! It's inhuman!"

"I'm afraid you have no choice." The man answered, as the gun raised a bit higher. "And you are getting far too 'loud'…"

Sophia tensed. She began to recoil, looking fearfully up to him as he began to squeeze the trigger…

Before a pair of black boots smashed into the man's face under his jaw, ripping him off of his feet and sending him flying back and to the ground. A moment later, a sweep of black fabric came down and flattened, revealing the form of a bat-cowled figure touching down on the ground behind it.

The two men on either side of Sophia immediately snapped up to him in alarm, seeing the imposing figure of the Batman now in their midst in all his glory. Before one even had a chance to react, a smacking sound resounded as a gloved fist smashed him in the face, sending him flying back as well. The other figure managed to aim a punch for his head, but his own hand went out, seized it in a crushing grip, twisted the arm around, and then quickly went inward to deliver two resounding blows: one to the man's side and kidneys and the other to his face, causing him to recoil too from the force.

Normally, Batman would have considered everything "done" at this point, but even as the third man went back, his vision caught the first man. Far from being stunned, he was already leaning up, aiming the gun at the dark knight instead. He was a bit surprised at the recovery time, and quickly swept his cape in front of him to obscure the shot. A moment later, he heard not the familiar sound of a silenced bullet, but rather a "thwip"…indicating a pneumatic gun. He had thought as much from what he overheard. Labdaris didn't want his daughter dead…just tranquilized. At any rate, he intercepted the dart with ease as a result, and lowered his cape to make a move on the man…

Only to feel a solid blow to his back with a two-fisted hit. It wasn't a light, unfocused strike either…but a precise one aimed at a shoulder joint, and it sent pain radiating through him. It would have been enough to drop most other men, although he managed to withstand it just faltering. He turned his head slightly behind him, and was again surprised to see the second man was up too.

Even more surprising was when he suddenly found one of his flailing arms seized and wrapped behind his back, courtesy of the third man. Now…this was a true shock. He had just wrenched the man's own arm. He heard the ligaments strain when he twisted it. No thug from Gotham would have been able to use that arm for twenty-four hours at least. Yet he was holding him back with his full strength now in both arms.

The first was getting up now, and fired another dart at him. Batman was wearing the thinner Batsuit, so he wasn't really eager to see if those darts had enough length and "pop" to get through, and quickly he swung his gauntlet around and, by equal parts luck and skill, intercepted the dart. Of course, the second immediately came on him after that, seizing that limb as well, meaning to move it back as his first arm had been pinned and to leave him an easy target for a third dart. Yet as he grabbed for it, Batman grit his teeth and swung his elbow back, smashing it into his gut, and knocking him back a bit, before giving him another blow up with his elbow into the jaw with sufficient force to fracture and knock out a tooth or two. He then swung the arm around and gave the man holding his other limb a blow to the shoulder joint with a chop, before punching for his face twice, smashing it so hard his nose was smashed and blood rolled out from both the nostrils and abrasion lacerations.

Yet shockingly enough, neither man was deterred. The force of his blows only pushed the second one back…and after they were done he grabbed for the arm again, breaking off the assault. As for the third man, in spite of having to have had a broken nose and a blow to the nerves, his grip never lessened. He continued to hold on throughout. He even flashed a bit of a grin at Batman for trying to "beat his way out". Neither man was even getting tired from the struggling or the blows.

_These aren't machines…_ The dark knight realized. _But they're reacting as if they were. It's like they've been deadened completely to pain…_

Soon, his other arm was grabbed again, and the first had loaded yet another dart. For a moment, Batman resisted a bit more…before letting the second guard "win" a bit. He let him pull his arm back, and once again expose his face and torso. Quickly, the first man took aim at him during the time he was held and pulled the trigger…only to have Batman suddenly yank the second man in front of him and let him take the dart. This one's eyes went wide for a moment in shock…but then almost immediately glazed over, and a second later he fell to the ground in a heap. The effect was so instant it was as if he really _had_ been shot by a bullet.

The third, on seeing this, lost his smile and grit his teeth in anger. Quickly, he went around the twisted arm and brought his knee into Batman's gut. It was another solid blow, and made him double over as a result. He was punched across the face a moment later, making him lower a bit more. However, when the third released his arm and brought both hands over his head again, meaning to bring them down on his neck to flatten him…Batman again stopped "playing possum" and suddenly shot up with his previously twisted arm, seized the man by the neck, and then lashed out his other arm to grab him by the leg, lift him up, hoist him over his head, and flip him onto the street on the opposite side. It was a solid impact, but even if he couldn't feel pain it took him a moment to get out of that position. Batman used the moment to move a hand to his belt, and a second later emerged with a Batarang that quickly flew out to the pneumatic gun before it could fire again. If this one was immune to pain too, he couldn't get him in the tendons…so instead he smacked the gun directly, not only wrenching it out of his grip but damaging the sensitive barrel.

In that short time, the third thug was up again and charging for him. As he advanced, Batman drove his arms up and caught him under the jaw with a solid uppercut, knocking his head into the air and stunning him whether he liked it or not. He quickly followed up with a kick that lashed out to the ankle of one of his feet, knocking it out from under him and making the already stunned man lose his balance and fall face first to the ground. He tried to get up as quickly as before, but Batman was faster, quickly leaping over and getting on his back. He didn't try to pin him, but rather seized him by the head and neck, brought him up, and then wrapped an arm around his neck in a sleeper hold, making sure to pin the carotid artery. Pain or no pain…the man's body couldn't function without air to the brain. He went wide-eyed, realizing what was happening, and tried to break free…but in only seconds his body went limp.

Even so, that amount of time was enough for the first thug to nearly be on Batman again. Forgetting the weapon, he instead drew a knife and advanced on him. The dark knight barely had time to drop the thug before the first one stabbed out for his face, making him spring back just in time. He continued to advance, slashing wide arcs in front of him to try and keep the vigilante at bay while pushing him back into a wall. Unfortunately for him, this was, once again, "veteran territory" for the man. After making one wide swing, Batman abruptly advanced and intercepted the arm with the knife, and performed a disarming move on it with both palms of his hands. The good thing about that move was it triggered the mechanics of the arm rather than relied on pain. Against his will, the thug found himself dropping the knife, and soon getting his face smashed as Batman advanced on him, hitting him again and again with the goal of backing him up to where he could administer a finishing blow rather than try to beat him outright.

However, at one point, the thug suddenly ducked under one hook, letting it go harmlessly overhead, and then shot forward and managed to get both of his hands around Batman's neck. Immediately, he tightened it into a crushing grip, intending to throttle him. Batman's eyes went wide, and he quickly put his hands on the arms in a look that seemed designed to remove them. Yet the thug just grinned in spite of his bloody face, thinking he finally "had him".

Yet what he didn't realize was Batman was allowing this, for it gave him a moment to go for his belt and pop out one of his tranquilizer darts a moment later. The man didn't even see it due to the presence of his arm. A moment later, the dark knight shoved it right into the man's side, letting the compound sink into his body. The thug, immune to pain, didn't even notice it. He continued to grin even as the drug went into him, but slowly his expression eased and "melted away". His grip loosened and went flaccid, and as Batman stood fully to his feet, the thug slumped to the ground.

Batman exhaled once. That had been a bit tougher than what he was used to in a standard "three-on-one" fight. He was accustomed to using the pain of his opponents to weaken them and slow them down. If he was going for "quick disables", it usually wouldn't be in a fight like this but striking from the shadows. It seemed he would burn through those tranquilizers quick on this mission. He had better use them conservatively…

Yet he ignored that for now, turning to Layton instead. She, like most civilians would, had watched the entire fight in spellbound awe, pushing herself further against the wall. But now that she was spotted, she shot back even more in alarm for a moment. Yet after blinking twice, she regained her composure.

"You…" She stated. "You followed me here all the way from the United States…"

"Apparently it was a good thing I did." He retorted. "You weren't being honest with me, Ms. Layton."

Realizing she had been caught, the woman cringed a bit for a moment. She hesitated, but then shook her head. "I'm sorry…I had to. I couldn't tell you any more. What you said…it was a horrible shock to me. I was stunned to learn that my father would be up to his barbaric treatments again… After I had seen him last, I thought he had given them up forever…" She held, and then anxiously looked up to his face. "He's my father. Even if what he's doing is terrible and wrong…you can't expect me to just turn on him so easily. He's the only family I still have."

"Even if protecting him means he'll kill others?" Batman coldly answered. "Torture them to the point of suicide?"

The woman bowed her head, cringing again at that. She didn't have an answer.

"I came here because citizens of Gotham City, no matter how depraved and grotesque, were kidnapped and brought here. While people might accept, even argue in favor of, them deserving to receive whatever torture your father is submitting them to via his 'treatment', doing so is against the law and effectively making himself judge, jury, and executioner. I _won't_ stand for that, and I know neither will you if you truly see these individuals as having a 'human' side. I won't be leaving without them. You can either talk…"

He gestured to the fallen three thugs.

"…or you can deal with the next group of your father's 'delivery boys' on your own."

The woman looked up a bit at this, growing more anxious as she looked to Batman. However, his stern expression revealed he was serious. She swallowed, and looked around to the men about her, definitely not liking the looks of them. After a time, she exhaled and bowed her head.

"Could…could you at least give me an hour to think about it?"

The gaze beneath the cowl narrowed. "You've already had close to three days to 'think about it', and the more you 'think', the more pain those eight are being put through. As 'nervous' and 'conflicted' as you are right now, your indecision is costing lives."

"Alright! Alright!" She finally exclaimed, closing her eyes in exasperation. "I may know where he is…but I needed to make some phone calls to make sure. No one is picking up, so I was trying to check out one of the places myself…"

"What places? And where would he be?"

The woman held a moment, but then shook her head. "…I won't tell you. I'm sorry…I'll let you accompany me wherever I go, but I won't tell you so that you can run on ahead. I want to make sure I at least have a chance to reason with him before you make a move."

The dark knight paused.

"I understand you're his daughter, Sophia. But in the face of what's going on, I'm surprised you're still trying to protect him so much. It seemed like you fled to the United States to escape his 'specter'."

The woman's hands clenched into fists and relaxed, and she slowly began to push herself up.

"…Maybe." A pause, then a sigh. "No…you're right, it _was_ the reason. But…there's more to it than that. I insist that my father is a good man because I know, in spite of all of his horrors and atrocities, that he _is_."

"…How?"

Rising to her feet, Sophia bowed her head, took in a deep breath, and then slowly released it before looking up, having made herself firmer. "I swore on my life I would never tell a soul when I found out. So I'm sorry…there is nothing you can say or do that will make me answer that question. Even abandoning me to my father."

Batman continued to probe her with his glare. He had hoped for more than that, but he could tell, much as he could with the sixteen Arkham staff members, that she was serious. She wouldn't answer this question. Not for anything. Even leaving her to the men being sent after her wouldn't change that. There was the temptation to indeed walk away here. After all, the next time a group came after her, he couldn't simply follow them and, until then, watch her from the shadows. However, he wasn't too eager for that course of action. Labdaris had already demonstrated back in Gotham his ability to "spirit people away". He could assume the same would happen to her.

With that in mind, at least for the time being, he decided to play it "her way".

Standing off to one side just slightly, he let his cape fall around him.

"…Lead the way."

* * *

_To be continued..._


	5. Crucible

The sound of a loud metal "clack" was barely enough to get Harvey Dent to raise his head. He was too sore and weak. However, refusing to be "broken" completely, he managed to turn a bit and glare at the door. Neither of the two men already in the room did anything to stop him. They merely watched him calmly from the side, both keeping their batons out but not using them.

At the moment, Harvey was lying on the stone cold floor near a brick wall, which he was chained too. Try as he might, he couldn't break free. The chains were old and rusted, but they were also thick. And they were anchored to the wall with fresh mortar and bricks, unlike the rest of the dingy cell. Oh, he had tried to pry them loose…back when he still had his strength. But…that had been dealt with. A flogging…electrocution…and finally given no food or water…or medication…

The lack of medication was by far the worst. He thought they second time he would be ready…would be accustomed to it. No. If anything…it was _worse_ the second time. Especially since they made him go without longer. He remembered screaming, trying to beat his head against the wall to knock himself out…but that only caused more pain. Nothing lessened it. Not sleep or unconsciousness. Somehow…through a move of what he thought was insanity…he managed to say "no" when they came in the first time, offering him medication if he promised he would behave and would recite his "mantra" like a "good little worm". He told them to do something unsightly…and so they had not come back for _six hours_. He wondered if Hell was _half_ as painful. He was broken only three hours into it. By four…he was shouting that he'd do as they said. By five, he was struggling not to cry out and _beg_. Back in Blackgate or Arkham, they'd probably call him a coward and a "wimp" for saying so. Well…they had never dealt with that pain before.

Once he was medicated, they put the chains on him…and withheld food and water for him further. When he tried to ask why, they only greeted him with beatings and orders to shut up…that he was only to speak when reciting the mantra. He was furious. He tugged and yanked and pulled at the chains, but to no avail. A day passed…and then a second…with no water. By now, he was desperately thirsty and weak…

His vision was a bit dim in the already dim chamber, but he managed to see another man come in. He was another one of the "staff"…although "guards" or "torturers" might have been more appropriate… He was dressed the same just as all the others, but didn't have one of those machines with him this time. The ones that were "walking dolls". Harvey had one of those at first…and found out the hard way he couldn't disable it. He only tired himself out trying…

Once in, the man got just out of range of Harvey's reach with the chains, and then proceeded to sit two glasses down. They were plastic, and both were filled with clear liquid…what looked like water. Both were placed almost in "pre-positioned" areas…moving them into just the right spot with minor adjustments. After that was done…something fell from above, bouncing and sending out the sound of metal before it landed right in front of his face.

He stared a moment, and then looked down at it.

A coin.

"Session for today, worm, now that you are learning obedience." The man stated in a thick accent. "You have had no water for two days. There is a coin for you. You may flip it. If it lands heads, you will receive a glass of water. If it lands tails, you will receive a glass of vinegar."

Harvey stared a moment, and then looked down in front of him. He saw the coin…and he saw the two glasses. One of them was water…and his throat ached for it. His mouth already felt as dry as sandpaper. He knew, if he went another day without it, he'd be willing to lick his own urine…assuming he could still produce any. With that in mind…he slowly managed to lift one of his manacled hands, extending it toward the coin. Slowly, his trembling fingers, weak from lack of food, reached out and grasped it. It was only due to practiced skill with a coin that he could pick it up, however. He slowly brought it in front of him.

He could see a tails on one side of it. It was just a basic "quarter"…American, no less. He swallowed a bit, and slowly turned it over to the other side.

His eyes widened.

Another tails greeted him.

"You may flip the coin." The man in front of him stated.

Slowly, Harvey's eyes looked up.

"…It's…a tric-"

Immediately, the two guards were on him and smacking him with the batons. His hand fell and the coin fell out of it as they both struck him three times, making sure to hit old injuries.

"Silence, worm! You haven't been allowed to speak!"

After they were done, they both backed off again. Harvey lay there a moment, groaning and barely able to move as the pain radiated through him. Even medicated…the virus made all of his pain worse.

"You may flip the coin." The man before him simply stated.

Teeth clenched, eyes filling with hate, Harvey slowly raised his head again. He sneered and seethed at the man for a moment, but then slowly reached out and grabbed the coin. He intended to at least be defiant about this. Slowly, his dirty fingers grasped it, bit-by-bit positioned it, and then flipped. It landed tails, obviously.

"Vinegar it is." The man in front of him said, taking up the vinegar, and kicking over the water in the process, on purpose. An audible gasp came from Harvey as he saw the precious water fall over and spill onto the stone floor…seeping into unseen cracks and vanishing. He actually let out a hollow sound…

As for the man, he crouched nearer to Harvey and held out the glass to him.

"Drink." He ordered. "Now."

Harvey glared at him a moment, his face slowly twisting into a rage. Summoning all the strength he could, he began to rise. "You rotten son-of-a-bitch… Burn in H-"

Far too weak and slow to seize him. The new man never even batted an eye before the guards were on him and beating him again. He tried to fight back this time…but not for long. He had fought them before, after all…and always lost. They soon put their knees on his back and held back his arms, pulling him upward and exposing his face. They continued to strike him from there until all "fight" was gone.

That done, the man in front of him moved…reaching over and seizing him by the scalp, making him cry out.

"Worm…I said _drink._"

With that, he jammed the glass forward and forced some of the liquid up to his lips. Harvey tried not too…gagging on the stench…but he kept pushing, and he had to breathe from the beating. He ended up actually inhaling some of it, choking on it. However, when he would take no more, the man threw it in his face over his eyes. He soon bellowed in pain and agony.

Only then was he released, dropped to the ground and left to writhe, his face burning, his eyes stinging. The man rose and stepped back, throwing the empty glass behind him.

"Dare to speak to me again, and your medication will be withheld." The man dark stated as he reached into his pockets. He held there, waiting for Harvey to recover. It took some time. He was weak, panting, out of breath, thirsty, and in pain. But finally, he managed to turn his head up.

As he did, he saw the man lower two new things in front of him…a small loaf of bread that was perfectly normal…and one that was moldy and crawling with maggots. In spite of his state, Harvey could smell the funk from here. As the man slowly sat them down, he gestured to the good bread.

"Heads."

He gestured to the bad bread.

"Tails. You may flip the coin…and then you will eat _every. Last. Bite._"

* * *

Edward Nigma wasn't feeling very "witty" right now. Or smart. In fact, he was only really feeling one sensation at the moment…and it was making it hard to feel anything else…or think, for that matter.

Ahead of him, two guards stood silently, arms crossed, casually leaning against a wall, along with one of the dummy robots. Unlike most other guards in the facility, however, they were both wearing thick coats, hats, gloves, and clothing. That would be because Edward's cell was currently at about twenty degrees Fahrenheit and dropping. Basically…they were here to keep him awake and conscious as well as to administer this chain of "therapy".

Edward wanted to look defiant…but after having been subjected to sleep deprivation, beatings, and withholding of medicine, not to mention having been freezing cold in this progressively-cooling cell for over an hour, he was hardly in good shape. Pretty much all he could do was shiver as his arms wrapped around himself and try to keep his teeth from chattering uncontrollably. He thought passing out would be a mercy…but if that happened, they only revived him with some sort of drug that kept his "inner organs" warm and functioning but the rest of him freezing…

"Let's try again, little worm." One of them spoke in a thick accent. "Remember…just get the riddle correct, and every time you do…the thermostat goes up a degree. Here's a simple one. What has eighteen legs and catches flies?"

An hour ago, Nigma would have mocked them for being so stupid and giving such a simple riddle. Now, however…he only reacted with fear and tension, and he was too cold to say anything different. If he tried to protest…they'd start beating him again…or withhold his medicine. Swallowing, he spoke slowly.

"A…b-b-base-b-b-ball t-t-team…"

"Sorry, incorrect." The man stated almost automatically. "The correct answer is an eighteen-legged fly-eater." He turned to his companion and gave a nod.

The man, in turn, got out a remote and pressed a button…dropping the room's temperature to 19 degrees.

"And you say you're so smart, stupid worm." The first one sneered. "Missing riddles that a mere child would get correct…"

Edward knew what this was. He knew there would never be a "right answer". No matter what he said, they'd always say he was wrong and lower the temperature. Yet to his growing anxiety and shock…he realized he couldn't stop. Every time they asked him a riddle, he had to answer it. It didn't matter how easy it was. It didn't matter how childish. It didn't matter if he would laugh and mock them for being so stupid normally. He _had_ to answer. And every time he did he sealed his own fate…

He didn't even dare protest anymore. He tried earlier…and they said one more outburst and he wouldn't get his pill.

_And God help me…I can't go another hour without that medicine and that pain…_

"What is black and white and 'red' all over?"

_Don't answer…keep your mouth shut… Damnit, don't answer…_

"I'm waiting, little worm. Are you truly so stupid you forgot to speak?"

_Damn you…damn you! I'm a thousand times smarter than you, you miserable little sh't! You're a damn monkey compared to me!_

"Such a little fool…this nasty green worm… Can't even answer a little question. Perhaps he's so stupid he doesn't know what the word for the answer is…"

_They're trying to get to you… Don't… Er… Damnit, you imbeciles! I'm smarter than you!_

"News…p-p-pap-p-per…"

"No. A penguin that fell in ketchup."

The thermostat lowered to eighteen.

* * *

There may have not been screams of "fear" coming from Dr. Crane's cell…not just yet…but he was getting there.

There were no people present in his. Just guards posted outside, and one single individual monitoring the status of the equipment in his special enclosure. Unlike the other cells, this one had a metal floor on it as well as metal walls. Currently, he was making sure a voltage level readout in it stayed constant, and that the current didn't get too high. They didn't want to kill him…not yet, at any rate.

Dr. Crane was actually only in half of a cell. The other half was sectioned off with glass and had regular stone masonry and flooring. Inside were a dozen finches…the kind that could be bought at any pet store. However, unlike the ones in the store, these ones had special wiring surgically implanted in them to monitor hormone levels and state of arousal. Very skittish creatures…every time one of them was "scared", the "staff" would know it…and so would the machine. It, in turn, would send a message to the controls to administer a rather painful electric shock to Dr. Crane via the floor.

Now…as Crane would try and jump around to avoid being shocked…naturally that would only scare the birds even more, resulting in more electrocution. Needless to say, once he "started", there would be no stopping it. Therefore, his only recourse was to sit silently and not move. Not to intentionally scare them in any way. However…simply shifting weight would do the same. So he had to sit perfectly still to avoid it. He could for, maybe, six hours or so…but eventually he would have to move. When he did, a bird would get spooked…and it would begin.

He'd shock himself forever if there wasn't some "cut off"…so he got one every fifteen minutes, but only for a short time. The objective of this therapy was simple. Dr. Crane was virtually immune to fear…but he still had an obsession with it and causing it. By the time this therapy was over, Dr. Crane would begin to hate the idea of scaring anything…

Even if it took him a solid week of being in this special cell.

* * *

Unlike the other inmates, who were staying as defiant as they could, this one was already degenerating into what Dr. Labdaris would call the "second phase".

Harleen Quinzell was strapped down to a hard, uncomfortable, metal gurney that had been tilted upward, and was currently in mind-numbing agony…stripped of her medication. She was screaming again and again from the intense pain…but also because of what she was being subjected to. A helmet had been fit over her head that contained both earphones as well as special lenses that pried her eyes open and made her watch a special "video". Aside from that, she was surrounded by four guards…four "special" guards. Each one was dressed in a custom-made purely suit, had green haired-wigs, and wore pale-faced masks that grinned at her…while they abused her verbally, physically, mentally…and in one additional way…although she was clothed at the moment. But even if she wasn't...even the staff here wouldn't cross "that" line...although they did pretty much everything else to make her feel dirty and humiliated when the clothes had been off. They had dressed her again after the latest session.

By now, she had gone through four solid hours of it. There was a clock on the wall behind her, placed against the masonry, counting down the seconds. For a moment, two of the "Jokers" in the room looked ready to start slapping her and punching her in the stomach again…but the one who had a view held up a hand to them. As he waited, the last few seconds ticked down to nothing, and the four hours were complete. At that, the men quickly undid the jackets and pants from their suits and took off the wigs and masks, revealing the same stone-faced staff on the other side. One of them came forward, grasped "Harley" by the mouth and shoved a pill inside it, slamming it shut and forcing her to swallow like a dog might. As for the others, they deactivated the video and audio player…which had been showing her, non-stop, all of the various archived footage that the Joker had made on various television broadcasts and security cameras over the years, each one showing him doing something horrific and depraved…usually to the one holding the camera. As for the audio, it played nothing but one vicious, vile insult being hurled by the Joker after another, spliced together to sound like nothing but one merciless tongue-lashing to her personally.

After a few minutes, Harley went still. She was like a limp doll on the gurney, being held up by it. Her body was criss-crossed with bruises, blood, and all manner of filth, and she was soaked with sweat. Only her restraints were suspending her as she struggled to catch her breath from the pain. However, one of the men reached over and slowly pulled the helmet off of her head.

Her eyes were puffy from tears, which stained her cheeks, and she looked weak and distraught. Yes…phase two was definitely underway. She was already begging and pleading for them to stop during the sessions, whimpering almost like a small child. The others would soon follow…

"It's time to ask that question again, little worm."

The woman weakly looked to him. "P…Please…"

Immediately, she was slapped across the face. "Speak when told to answer, ugly maggot." One of them stated.

The man in front of her stayed calm. "Do you, little worm, love the Joker?"

Harley only weakly turned her head back, almost lolling it as she stared back at him.

"You're…you're…"

"Remember…the wrong answer will only bring you pain, just as he will."

"I…I…" She stammered, as if barely strong enough to keep talking. "I…c-c-can't…just…turn it off like that… I…I still…love him… I can't…stop…"

The man stared back, and then simply shook his head at her.

"Stupid worm."

He began to lower the helmet back onto her head, even as another guard came forward with a new capsule…an "accelerator"…one designed to reactivate the virus even after medication. Harley was able to feebly say "no" a few times…but within five minutes she was screaming on seeing the videos to the tune of pain and abuse yet again.

* * *

Zsasz was like a mad dog. Even after having spent six hours without medication, after enduring sleep deprivation, food deprivation, and water deprivation…no change. Right now, he was in a position that should have taken the rest of the fight out of him. He had been chained to the wall…but chained in the position of the "iron cross". It should have been almost the same agony as crucifixion, except no nails. Yet he continued to rattle the chains as he struggled to break. He was surrounded by three of the dummy robots, while his "staff" watched him calmly from a distance.

He was practically foaming at the mouth now, shaking violently. "You think you can control me?!" He shouted out to them. "Think you're going to 'break' me?! You're nothing to me, do you hear?! Just more zsombies! Waiting for me to free you from your meaningless existence! And I will! Every last one of you!"

The men, in turn, looked to each other calmly as Zsasz continued to rage and fume.

"What do you think?" One asked in Latvian.

"A true problem case." The other stated. "Very resistant to treatment. His madness _does_ give him a great deal of power…"

"So how do we get him to respond?"

The man reached into his pocket, and came out with a switchblade, which he extended with a snap. "Alternative treatment."

The one began to approach. The other hesitated a moment, but then understood. He actually smiled a little, in spite of Zsasz ranting and raving. He reached into his own pocket a moment later, and pulled out a remote. For a moment, the serial killer saw the man with the switchblade approaching and fought violently against his chains, wanting to do something to him…_needing_ to do something to him…and being powerless to do so. When he shook too much, a stop was put to that. The one with the remote pressed a button…instantly sending a powerful shock through Zsasz that made him go rigid as a board to the sound of electricity in the air. Not enough to kill him, of course…but strong enough to numb most of the nerves in his body. After shocking him only for a few seconds, he cut it off, and the serial killer went limp.

Another button was pressed afterward…drawing the chains a bit more taut, making sure he was perfectly secure. After that, the man walked in behind him, and stayed there, looking over his body. At this point, Zsasz was down to his skivvies. His body was mostly exposed, as were the countless marks on it from his countless victims. However…there were still blank spots left. It was to these that the man looked. No one said or did anything yet. They waited for Zsasz to stir, to start showing signs of life and awareness again. It wasn't until his eyes cleared and he started to look again that the one in front put the remote away and spoke.

"I understand, disgusting worm, that you have one mark on your body for each individual."

Suddenly, Zsasz felt the man grip him by the shoulder.

He let out a moan, his voice still not working.

"That your need for 'the mark', as you say it, is intimately linked to your need to kill."

Suddenly, he felt the blade pushed in. There was pain, but he was more than used to it. He was focusing on something else. He knew where it was going. He knew right next to which mark it was being placed.

And, slowly, he felt another streak being cut in…

At once, he felt "unbalanced". Awkward. Incomplete.

"Whht…whhtryu…" He began to moan.

"That you must have kill for every mark…one you've already settled on…"

The blade went in again…and made a second mark.

Now, Zsasz began to stiffen.

"Sttp…" He said, his voice starting to clear. "Stop…that…"

There was no answer. Very smoothly, very delicately, a third mark was made.

"No…stop…" He began to say as he tried to struggle again. By now…he felt highly unbalanced…almost "disastrously" so. The marks on his body…they were being made with a knife…just like his own… He was incomplete. His desire to kill…his _need_ to kill…swelled stronger than ever. Three marks on his body…three people who had not been remade into zsombies… It felt like there was a void there…that a part of him was missing…

A fourth mark was made.

"Stop it!" He shouted. "Stop! You're driving me crazy!"

They didn't bother hitting him this time…just making a fifth mark, crossed over the other four.

"No! _No!" _He shouted. "You're making my skin crawl!" He screamed as he fought harder and harder in the chains…unable to do anything. "Damnit! _Damn you all! I can't stand it!"_

He fought more and more violently, starting to foam at the mouth, his eyes looking like they would bulge out of his skull, veins popping out of his head and neck…and, through it all, the ensuing threats, the swears, the madness…the man simply continued to add one mark after another.

* * *

Pamela Isley barely heard the visor to the room when it opened. She could barely do anything right now. Dehydrated, in the dark for days, only getting a few minutes of a special lamp to keep her alive from time to time, by the time she was thrown in this cell it took away whatever fight was left in her.

She wasn't being incinerated like Killer Croc…but that was hardly an improvement right now. She was in a cell surrounded by flaming torches, keeping the room's temperature over 100 degrees Fahrenheit. She had been sweating so badly she actually looked a little "wilted". Her mouth was dry. Her throat was try. She could barely see from the intense heat seeming to slowly bake the life out of her. She was nearly in a pile on the floor. After all, she couldn't prop herself up against the hot walls without scalding herself. Her hair was splayed out, and her mouth perpetually hung open although she had finished panting a while ago.

Somehow, through the dimness of her vision and the heat, she was able to see a metal sheath had been drawn aside…revealing more of the damned flesh piles who had put her in here. They stared in indifferently. After a moment, one moved.

She heard sliding on either side of her. Pamela looked to see what was there. The floor beneath her, which hadn't been stone but metal instead, slid open and slowly pushed out two boxes on either side. Both were climate controlled and enclosed except for a single pane big enough for her to reach her hand in. They also had transparent walls…allowing her to see what was in them.

On one side was a small floppy eared rabbit, cleaning itself and sniffing about the cage.

On the other was a stand of grass…but not just any kind. Pamela was well versed with almost every plant known to man. This particular species was one of the endangered type…only existing on one prairie reserve. However, simple as it was, it was an encouraging sight. Finally, she could hear one of her "babies".

In spite of her dry throat, she managed to push herself up and look to it.

"My…" She croaked. "My darling… They…they didn't hurt you…to bring you here…did they?"

_"__Worm."_

Pamela's face, which had been softening to the plant before, narrowed now. She glared to the visor at who was speaking. They, in turn, were communicating through a microphone. The voice was coming through a loudspeaker, but she could make out the words easy.

"If you hurt…this one…I'll kill you all…I swear it…" She croaked.

The woman didn't respond to that. She simply indicated. _"You will receive cold water now…after you have done one simple task. You are to reach into the enclosure with the grass, tear off a few stems, and then feed them to the rabbit."_

Pamela's eyes turned into saucers.

_"__Very simple, idiotic worm. A meaningless plant that will easily regrow…to feed a cute, innocent, harmless bunny."_

The woman's teeth began to clench as her eyes filled with new passion.

"You…sick…bastards… You want me…to mutilate…my own babies…"

_"__That plant is not 'your baby', stupid maggot. You didn't give birth to it. Now…tear off some grass and feed it to the rabbit. It really is a simply rabbit who has never done you or anyone else any ill. Give it a little something to eat and it will be quite affectionate of you. Fail…and I will increase the temperature in your enclosure."_

In spite of her weakness, dizziness, and growing hate, Pamela hissed…and reached her hand into the enclosure with the rabbit. It took her a moment, but she managed to seize it, making sure to grab it around the neck.

"Here's what I think of this 'cute, innocent, harmless', ugly little plant killer…and you…" She said as she began to tighten her grip.

_"__Kill that rabbit," _The woman suddenly snapped. _"And you will go the rest of the day without medication _and_ in this flaming box."_

Pamela froze. She didn't want to. She wanted to compel her body to keep tightening. The rabbit was already starting to squeal. Only a bit more…and it would be done…

And yet, to her horror…she couldn't. She couldn't stop thinking of the horrible pain. The agony…sadly worse than anything she had ever endured when feeling her babies suffering…_far_ worse. It seized her, left her paralyzed. She struggled to move…to defy them…for her children. For the principle. There were no innocent animals…just plagues on plants… She had to stand up for them. She was the only one who could.

Yet in the end…she couldn't bring herself to finish the creature.

Very slowly…her grip relaxed and let the rabbit fall. It immediately ran into a corner. She stared at it…trying to tell herself to seize it again and finish it…but the memory of the pain was too much. In the end…she yanked her hand out and looked away from it.

The woman raised an eyebrow to this, and then made a note on a chart she had before raising the temperature in the cell.

* * *

"Hello there!"

The Joker gave a smile up to the men watching him as he finished the task. He was a bit haggard and weak-looking, much like the others. After all, he had been subjected to the same torment. However…he was doing much better now, back to grinning and looking perfectly innocent as he completed the latest "therapy". He had been placed in a straight jacket, chained to suspend from the ceiling, and had his feet inside a cage full of rather large Norwegian rats. Each one had been trained and conditioned to bite and tear the nearest flesh they could find whenever they heard the sound of laughter. After that, he was placed in a special cell that had projectors on all the walls on the opposite sides, throwing up random images of various things. Some were perfectly innocent, like trees or gazebos or bicycling on a sidewalk. Others were shots of rather "grim" deaths, violent, terrible, and full of tragedy. Still others were shots from the Joker's "personal collection" over the years, including twisted grinning faces. One laugh…and the rats would attack.

Three hours later…he hadn't laughed once.

The two men looked to each other. They said nothing, but they realized what was happening…namely the opposite effect from what had been intended. The Joker wasn't resisting the therapy at all. Right ever since they started, he was complying with it. When he was offered choices, he always made the "good choice". Hence, they had shifted to things like this to try and get involuntary responses. However…that didn't work either. He never went for it.

At any rate, they had to go through with this, and they advanced and tended to the rats. In a few moments, they had his feet out of the sealed rat enclosure and left him suspended. They opened the cell, and soon began to wheel it out. The Joker casually smiled at them as he left. No questions at all. No asking if he could get water, if he had done well, or anything else. He knew that would all earn insults and beatings, so he did nothing. Just patiently waited. Soon the rats were out, the two men exited, and they closed the cell door behind them. However, this time, they didn't lock it.

The green-haired man continued to smile and hang there, letting out an occasional chuckle now that he was free to laugh again. He actually swung himself a bit from them, letting his legs go back and forth. He couldn't see much in the cell. The only lighting was over the entrance and over him, in a "projection" style. He seemed to almost be hovering in a cone of light in black emptiness right now. And he hovered there a moment, casually and calmly waiting.

Then, the door clicked again. He looked up and smiled at it. A moment later, it opened up, and then two of the dummy guards walked in. They didn't approach him. They simply fanned out and stood still. After that, however, a new figure came in…one that the Joker had seen only once so far. However, he recognized the coat, the ledger, and the gray, hawkish look.

"Good morning!" He said with a smile. "Or is it evening? Don't really know being in this hole, eh? Heh…looking rather healthy today, aren't we? I hope I've been 'making good progress' in this therapy, doctor… It _is_ doctor, yes?"

The man was silent as he advanced a short distance, then stopped and folded his hands with the ledger in front of him. However, the dummy guards did nothing, and neither did the man. He simply stared back.

"…Dr. Labdaris, yes." He answered him after a moment. His probing eyes stared at the man, seeming to penetrate him as he stared at him. The Joker, however, merely kept smiling the whole time.

"…You really don't think you're fooling me, do you?"

"What, me?" The Joker answered in the most innocent tone imaginable. "Why, I'm only doing what I'm told during your little therapy sessions. Isn't that the goal? To make me a nice, model, productive citizen? To get me to 'want to be made well'? All that lovely, flowery wonderfulness? I'm not a fool, my good doctor. I can see that if I misbehave, I'm in for a great deal of pain. Did you ever stop to think that you're possibly a great doctor? That you've finally come up with the perfect way to treat me? That maybe you, Dr. Labdaris, have finally devised the brilliant solution to finally take this poor, miserable creature before you and make him a great, wonderful, upstanding member of society? Do you have so little faith in your abilities?"

Dr. Labdaris didn't change.

"As I said, you're not fooling anyone. I've looked at your record. You have a history of pretending to be cured and then mocking your caretakers right before you kill them."

"What, _moi_?" The Joker said in mock aghast shock. "I'm insulted! Just because that happened before doesn't mean that it's going to happen to _you_, does it, doctor? I'm no fool. It's far better to let you cure me than let you torture me, isn't it?"

"I know full well you're not 'being cured'. You haven't had any desired initial response. You haven't had the slightest difficulty making any of the choices and we haven't generated any involuntary reactions from you."

The Joker paused a moment, but then smiled a bit more…slightly less "happy" and more sinister.

"Well…that's _your_ problem, isn't it, doctor? If I'm not giving the 'right responses'…that just goes to show you don't understand me at all. It also goes to show that you forgot one little 'flaw' with your intention to bring me here and brainwash me through physical and mental torture. You assumed that I'd resist, tooth and nail, right up until the point I was broken. You never encountered a patient who did everything he was told while he was still 'sick', did you?"

Dr. Labdaris didn't answer. The Joker, on his part, chuckled.

"So what now, dear doctor? Are you going to start withholding my medication and beating me for doing exactly what you want me to do? Why…wouldn't that be counter-productive? Wouldn't that encourage me to act in the _wrong_ way? Or are you going to just plain torture me whether I behave or don't, boiling down your whole attempt to simple torture rather than having any good outcome? Or are you going to just kill me now? Any way…"

He grinned a bit more, his teeth showing.

"…You lose."

The man didn't move. He didn't show any emotion. The Joker continued to grin and stare back. After a moment, Labdaris moistened his lips. He took a few steps forward, getting all the way into range of striking if the Joker had been free. He wasn't, however, and so Labdaris almost got in his face and looked him right in the eye. He stared for a moment, not at all miffed by the mocking look he was getting, or the confidence and coolness of his "quarry".

"…You're right to say we don't know much about you, you twisted little worm. But I know one thing beyond a doubt. All of your caution thrown to the wind…all of your seemingly self-destructive behavior…all of your careless attitude toward your own life and safety…_that_, without a doubt, is the 'act'. The lie. There's only one individual you will consent to die at the hand of…and he's not here. Yet so long as he exists, your life still has 'meaning', however demented and warped. No…you don't want to die…but you're prepared to go the distance. Because to you, life or death is a 'win-win'. Either you live to spread more chaos…or you die at the hand of those who claim to uphold 'justice' and 'peace', making one final 'joke', as you would say, to show you what society has to resort to in order to deal with you. Either way, it's a benefit for you."

The Joker kept smiling, not changing at all. However, Labdaris' eyes narrowed, and his tone dropped.

"You _will_ convince me that you are cured, maggot. And you had better. Because if you do not…if, when I have no more therapy to give you, you give me the slightest, smallest, tiniest inclination that I have failed…that you're trying to fool me…that this is all just another act… Here is _exactly_ what I _promise_ to do to you.

"First I will have your hands and feet broken in multiple spots. Then I will bound them incorrectly, let them start to set, and then break them again. I will bound them again, once more let them set, and then break them again. In the end, they will be irreversibly mangled. You'll be lucky if you ever manage to hold a cup again or walk without a cane. Then I will burn your hair off. The crown of your head, your eyebrows, and even your genitals until you are covered with scars from third degree burns in those areas and not one strand of green hair ever grows again. After that, I will use a dye to turn splotches of your white skin into flesh tones of various colors at random intervals, injecting it directly into your skin. Finally, I will have a knife taken into the muscles of your face and your larynx and I will not only cut the ligiments and tendons but I will _remove_ parts of them to ensure they cannot be reconnected.

"I will leave you a mangled, crippled, ugly, deformation of a man…unable to smile…unable to laugh…barely able to make a moan to communicate. And then…I will let you live and send you back to Gotham City. Ask yourself, maggot…do you think you'll still be as fearsome when you spend the rest of your life walking and talking like a man with cerebral palsy? Do you think you'll be as feared and admired? Or will the world see you for what you really are…a sad, pathetic little man who spent his life mocking society, law, and order…while at the same time relying on the very system he said didn't exist to preserve him…to give him his 'power' all these years? To show just how little you really are…how miserably 'mortal' you really are. To expose the biggest 'joke', as you would say, of all…that people were foolish enough to be scared of this sad little cripple for so many years and now learning that he's just as flesh and bone as the rest of us."

As Labdaris had continued to talk…the Joker's smile had gradually faded. It did not turn to fear, and the fire in his eyes didn't dim…but it did turn darker. As the wording went on, the smile turned to a frown. The teeth slowly began to clench. The eyes began to burn a bit more. Under the straight jacket, the hands slowly turned into fists.

"…_Don't_ think for one moment, 'doc'," The Joker hissed after a time, his voice no longer merry at all…but dark and dangerous. "That burning Jones to death in front of me did anything more than show me you're just the same type of monster as the rest of us. It certainly didn't 'scare' me…and neither does this. I advise you to remember just who you're talking to. Someone who's dangerous enough to be in the nightmares of the Justice League. Someone you _don't_ want to 'piss off'."

"That's where you're wrong, worm." Labdaris answered, not batting an eye. "The first person I'm going to remind that the fearsome and horrible Joker is just a mere man…is you. Until then…I'll just keep trying to find your weak spot…and I think I already have it."

With that, Labdaris pulled back, turned, and began to walk out of the room. As he reached the door, his two dummies turned and followed after him. The three exited, the door closed, shut, and locked once again. The light went out overhead.

No longer smiling or 'swinging', the Joker was left hanging there, looking around in the darkness for a moment. He did so for about a minute of silence. Then…new images came up. This time all around him, and on the ceiling and floor as well.

Images of Batman.

The Joker saw this, and actually reacted a bit.

"Clever little old fart, aren't you…?"

* * *

It hadn't been too much farther to get to Sophia's destination. It was another warehouse, although this time it was a "shipping" one. It seemed to have been converted from old storefront property, but it had a place in the back for loading and unloading. Not of anything like a semi, but regular cars, vans, and trucks. The building itself was darkened and locked up, the sign saying something in Latvian overhead. Since it was old and worn out, Batman could only make out a few words, but namely that it was a type of storage depot company. At any rate, the woman didn't go to the front. She immediately made for the back and the rear entrance metal shutters. She moved a bit more warily now, however. They were in a darkened part of town, and she was more cautious of the shadows…

As they approached the back, seeing the door, Layton began to remove her backpack and open it up.

"Normally I'd hate doing this, but…I've got no choice." She said, as she emerged with a rather large pair of bolt cutters soon after.

"…Do you always keep tools like that in your apartment?" Batman asked.

She grinned a bit sheepishly as she got up. "I used to forget my combination a lot in school… Anyway…I just wanted to tell you if you think I break and enter all the time. I just hope the locks are old enough for this to work…"

She moved over to the door, seeming to waver a bit under the tool, and slowly moved up to the combination lock keeping the shutter down. Batman didn't bother stopping her. This part of town was so old that there weren't cameras or anything else monitoring them. Apparently, the biggest "security" for this place was lack of interest. She soon placed the bolt cutters on one of the metal loops, and began to grit her teeth as she pressed on the levers, trying to cut it. Unfortunately, it seemed a bit too strong for that.

"So why did you come here?" He asked.

She paused…but then decided to go ahead and answer. "If my father is 'back in business', he needs things. Food. Clothes. Medical supplies. Drugs and compounds. He can't get them all locally, and the post office has too many complications. He used to have them shipped to depots like this, then would come in and claim them and take them to his asylum." She grunted and kept working. "This…isn't cutting…" She continued to grit her teeth, and kept speaking. "There's…no guarantee…he's still using this…but it was under a private name…so many he still is… It never got any bad reputation…"

She struggled a bit more, and then sighed as she pulled off the cutters.

"No use… This must be the newer combos…"

A shadow fell over her, and she turned and saw Batman approaching. Immediately, she shrank to one side. As for Batman himself, he didn't have his full array of gadgets that he would normally use to break through combination locks, but he didn't want to take the time trying to fix it through listening. He didn't bring his cutting torch or acid vials…so instead he got out one of the small explosives, cracked open the outer coating, and poured it into the small crack where the bolt inserted into the combination. He did so until it came out and powdered around the top.

"Stand back."

Layton immediately did as she was told. Once he was done, Batman himself backed up about twenty feet and pulled out one of his batarangs. A moment later, he zeroed in on the tiny amount of powder out of the top of the combination lock, and then flung it. It struck a moment later, setting off a spark that resulted in a tiny explosion. It sounded only like one of those old M-80s, but it was still enough to make a tiny yelp come from Layton. Nevertheless, a cloud of smoke soon resulted along with some black scoring around the door lock.

Batman advanced, picking up his batarang in the process. It was a bit "sooty" and possibly blunt on one tip, but it was still good. After doing so, he went up to the lock, brushing away the smoke as he did so, and then grabbed it. It was loose now, and he pulled it off with ease, letting it go to the ground. As he reached for the shutter and began to open it, Layton began to advance again, looking in.

In moments, the depot was open. It was dark inside, but soon Batman's flashlight, as well as a pocket one from Layton, soon exposed the interior. It wasn't too large. Not even as big as the warehouse that Batman had checked out at the start of this. Just one set of metal shelves in the center and then a wide open area in the middle. However, there was also a pseudo-wall erected that zoned off a desk and "office" of a sort. The warehouse itself was empty, but even Layton didn't pause at that. She immediately went in and for the small "office area" on the side. As she got to the doorway and ran inside, Batman entered at a more leisurely pace, making sure to check out all of the dark spaces and corners within the chamber, making sure there were no more "surprises" as there had been in the last garage.

"Did you know those men?" He asked as he entered.

She shook her head as she went inside and opened the desk, beginning to look through the drawers. "No…not at all."

"Yet they were working for your father. Is his reputation as 'tarnished' as you think?"

The woman paused, and then grimly shook her head. "…Unfortunately, it is. Father…never had a whole lot of trouble getting 'help'…"

"…People who had been treated by him before?" Batman asked. "Or people who had been _hurt_ by his patients?"

She hesitated again, swallowing, and then resumed. "…More the second than the first. Even the former…knew what he did to his patients. That gave him a reputation among the 'wrong' crowd."

"So, others who want 'revenge' are also attracted to him and willing to help him out." The dark knight answered. "There's no shortage of those types, not considering how many people who have been hurt over the years by the Arkham patients. Even if they're native Latvians, they might still think this is for a 'good cause'… Any idea how many there might be?"

She shook her head as she pulled out one stack of paper from a drawer. "No…I haven't had contact with him in years. I'm not even sure how many people he had hired normally when he practiced…" She paused a moment as she looked over the paper a bit, and then hesitated. She swallowed a bit at what she saw, and then exhaled.

"…After tonight, I should have expected this…"

"What?"

"This depot was full only a few days ago. Filled with crates from medical and chemical companies as well as all sorts of canned goods and packaged food in mass quantities." She sighed and looked up to him. "…That confirms it to me."

"Confirms what?"

Layton paused. She was silent for a few moments. After a bit, however, she sighed and got up. She walked out from the room and more in the open. She held a moment, but then exhaled again.

"…I guess I have no choice." She said as her head lowered again. "…Unless I can convince you to let me go after him alone?"

"No."

She bit her lower lip and wrung her hands uncomfortably. "…Well, you're preferable to the police, I guess. I won't have any chance to talk to him if I go to them first…and if there are any more people like those who came for me, they have to be waiting for me." She looked up to him. "…I know where he practiced briefly. The personal asylum that he used to operate out of."

"What's the address?"

She shook her head. "It doesn't have an address. He set it in the country, deep in one of the forests that was still virgin. It's not at a high elevation, but the area is inundated at this time of year and highly uneven. We can take a car to get there part of the way, but…" She paused momentarily, sighing again.

"But what?"

"…But the road from there gets too rough to go by vehicle. Traditionally, my father would only take new patients during the dry part of the year. Even then, they'd have to be brought in via four-wheelers or other off-road vehicles. Yet that was when the road was still serviced… I have no idea if it hasn't been washed out or covered with fallen trees. Otherwise, the fastest way is going through the country on horseback. On foot it would take four days…but with a good horse you can make it there, factoring in the car trip, in two."

Batman stared silently for a moment.

"…And are you willing to guide me there by the straightest path possible?"

Layton paused momentarily on hearing that, but then exhaled and nodded.

"I want the chance to talk to him first. But after that…" She paused again, and then closed her eyes and exhaled. "…He has to be stopped. Whether he wants to be or not." She looked up afterward. "When do you want to leave?"

"Immediately." Batman answered. "Do you have a car?"

She rubbed the back of her head and grimaced. "…It took me most of my 'life savings' after the plane ticket, but I rented a car for a couple days. They couldn't give it to me right away, though. It…looks like it's only a 'small' company and they were waiting for it to be returned and cleaned. That's why I went out here first. But other than that…" She gestured to her own backpack. "Yeah, I'm ready."

"Then I'll see you back to the more populated part of town, and after that go and get the car." He stated. "I'll be there as soon as you have it, and at that point we'll depart. Don't try to leave without me. I'll know."

She swallowed, but then nodded. "I believe it."

"Make sure to stay in the light and around people at all times before then."

She nodded again. "I will."

Without another word, Batman turned and began to leave the way he came in. Layton tightened up her own backpack and followed.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	6. Wailing and Gnashing of Teeth

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a really short, uneventful chapter, but it's the price I pay for getting out a weekly chapter. Writing was very slow this week and the next chapter should be so big that it might take two weeks to put out, if not longer if I want it to have an emotional and action-orientated "punch". I don't do well when I simply try to get an idea on paper. It comes out rather crummy.

* * *

It was a lot like "opening day"…only worse this time.

They were once again strapped to gurneys and chained down. Only this time…they were stripped nude first. It wasn't welcome. Especially when they were all "scoured clean" by what looked and smelled like a weak acid…not to mention felt like one and burned every orifice in their bodies and made them even more sensitive to pain. As a result, the chains and bindings cut into them painfully. What made it all the worse was that they realized their medication was being withheld this time. It was made even worse when their eyes were pried open, and special "auto-drips" were used to moisten the eyeballs, meaning they would be in such a painful position for a while.

Yet what was far worse was where they were taken. It seemed to be a circular cell broken into numerous smaller "pie slices". Each one held a single prisoner, and once shoved inside and locked in…they heard something open and then dump into the floor of the cell. They didn't know what…but soon they heard movement. Very slightly, but it was there. Not long after, they started to feel things crawling over their feet…small prickling things. Beetles. There were hundreds of them in each cell, walking all over them.

They couldn't see them, however. Their heads were pried skyward, looking at the ceiling…or lack thereof. The ceiling itself had been removed. Now, there were only iron bars like a cage, intercrossed with one another. They went up several levels until they reached a metal grate floor…above which was the only sign of illumination, although it was fire once again. Perched on that was some sort of large device. It was impossible to make out from the shadows. However, all were forced to look up there, and they heard lots of motion. The sounds of chains and straps, perhaps a bit of struggling, perhaps a low moan from something trying to be heard around a gag, and people moving into the room.

None of them had noticed that in the circular cells…there were only _six_ openings…not seven.

At long last, as the beetles were going up to their ankles and between their toes, a loudspeaker let out a loud crack, and then the voice of who they all knew as "Dr. Labdaris" began to speak.

_"__Good morning, filthy little maggots."_ He began. _"By now, you are all starting to show signs of learning your place as the dog excrement that you are…for the most part. However, there is still some lingering resistance among you. I fear I have been too 'kind' to you…not helping you realize the consequences of your actions and defiance enough. No more was that more clear than in one of your fellow cellmates. It seems the worm who enjoys self-mutilation went particularly wild and profane. I only tolerate so much 'resistance' from one of my patients before I realize he's incurable…and, sadly, it seems the worm is not benefiting from therapy. Therefore…I am going to remove him from this facility while ensuring he will never be a threat again._

_ "__However…it seems as if the incinerator did not intimidate any of you. Oh, I assure you, burning to death is quite slow and terrible…but the modern world is full of such fools. They think crucifixion doesn't 'look that bad on TV', after all, not realizing it is quite possibly the slowest and most painful way to die imaginable. So…it seems slowly burning to death does not scare you. Or perhaps you simply don't care what happens so long as it happens to someone else. Well…I need to break you of your love of killing…so I will try something else today."_

Suddenly, the sound of an electric motor firing went off overhead…before a loud engine began to purr, not so much from the engine itself as from the sounds of grinding, loud gears working. In the echoing of the chamber, it was honestly deafening. However, the doctor continued, speaking louder.

_"__My apologies for the sound of the machine up here. I'll try to make myself audible over it. What you are currently hearing is an old, but trusted, model of industrial wood chipper. Far from being the ones you buy in hardware stores or even the ones that are rented by lawn care providers, this is an industrial type meant to 'devour' knotted pieces of log. You could throw a secure metal file cabinet into one of these and you would still end up with scraps. Now then…"_

A monitor sprang to life near the view of every last one of the six, so that they could look above as well as see a video display. What they saw was the face of Victor Zsasz…strapped down, reinforced with metal and chains, gagged heavily, and fighting for all he was worth…for all the good it did. In spite of his look, he genuinely showed fear in his eyes, looking below him and off camera.

_"__This is the troublesome worm. I'm sorry you can't see all of him, but the camera is locked on his face. He's currently completely strapped down to a specially made slab on a conveyor which, in just a few moments, with extremely slowly feed him into the waiting 'jaws' of the wood chipper…feet first, of course. He'll begin by feeling the skin ripped off of his feet, then the muscle layers one by one, and finally the bone start to be eroded…but that, of course, is only the beginning. I'm honestly not sure how long he'll live…although you all will continue to watch until the crown of his head vanishes into the machine. Don't you all worry…I have him secured very well. He won't be 'sucked in' early. You'll get to see every last bit of it. I estimate it will take around two hours…during which your medication will be wearing off and you will see every last detail to the tune of absolute agony._

_ "__However…I fear this is also 'too little'…and that I am being far too lenient with you. You must 'share' in the agony of this ugly maggot. And to that end…I have specially wired the end of the chipper that will soon render the worm into nothing so that it collects every last drop of his remains and proceeds to reroute them to spray them over you. Now…being the vile little creatures that you are, I doubt it's enough to affect you to be soaked in the remains of another human being, even if I left them to rot and fester on you for a few days. So, to help with that effort, you have no doubt noticed by now the beetles crawling around you. They're a form of carrion beetle. Quite harmless to 'clean' individuals such as you since they can only smell the stench of chemicals right now. Of course…that will change in a moment when the bloody remains begin to fall down upon you. At the scent of fresh blood and flesh, they will 'dig in', thinking the healthy skin under the refuse is the dead matter. That, in turn, will draw more blood, spread more infection, and cause them to eat even more aggressively than before, opening more wounds, etc., etc….and all this while you are enjoying the effects of having no medication for an additional four hours._

_ "__I honestly don't know whether or not this will end in an infection leading to your deaths…but as you have taken advantage of my good will, I have no choice but to proceed using methods where I can no longer guarantee your survival until you learn to hate the very thought of people dying. Just one last item before we begin…the next one of you who causes any trouble, all of your fellow patients will suffer for an additional six hours. So…that means the next demonstration will be twelve hours. Then eighteen. Then twenty-four. And so on. I doubt you have much in the way of comradery…but if you have any at all, miserable worms, please consider it."_

The sound of a conveyor began to roll out. Although the face was "stationary" on the screen, they could see Zsasz's eyes change, growing a bit more panicked, looking down at what was coming. After all, he may have been a bold and demented serial killer…but he knew he was no longer in the presence of "society". No longer surrounded by doctors who wanted to preserve him or cure him or study him. No longer guarded by laws against inhuman punishments. And though a part of his mind still thought they'd turn it off and he'd be free without a scratch, that he'd get out of this, that he'd live to kill hundreds more…he was slowly beginning to realize the same thing those in the circular cell realized…

No…he wasn't.

_"__I'd ask for last words…but I don't recall anyone running a pound ever asking a mongrel if they had anything to say before throwing the switch on the gas chamber."_ Dr. Labdaris finished.

It was the last words they heard before the screaming began a second later.

He only made it 37 minutes before he went silent for the last time.

* * *

Batman knew he had nothing on people who rode horses for a living, even considering not only all of his training in equestrian activities at Wayne Manor or the times he had ridden a horse over the years. Nevertheless, he was definitely a master handler compared to Sophia. She had the look of someone who knew what to do but had been so out of practice that she was rather awkward. While she adjusted after a few hours, he knew if there was a crisis situation that she might not be able to maintain control of her horse or get it to escape properly. And knowing where they were going, a 'crisis' was pretty much a foregone conclusion.

He had ended up electing on a relay in his luggage. While the "fly-bys" were an attractive idea, they wouldn't be ready for a few days yet. Besides, with the ability to make constant contact back to Gotham City, he could arrange things a lot better. He didn't know exactly where Sophia would end up leading him, which was problematic, but during his call in to Alfred he arranged for a fully-equipped Batboat to start making its way toward the coast of Latvia. Nevertheless, depending on weather conditions, auto-pilot "exactness", and how accessible it would be to refuel via buoys he was also arranging on drop-by flights…the length of time it would take to get to the coast would be anywhere from six to nine days. Not exactly a help for a while…but he made the call just in case.

He only hoped no one disturbed that hotel for that time. He only had about thirty minutes to hire a "third party" to make sure the hotel staff kept up their work and never looked inside. Plus, that transmitter was putting out a large amount of signal "heat". He had to hope no one was looking too carefully at that part of town too from the skies...

True to her word, as soon as Batman returned with his equipment and gear, loaded for a long trip, he found that Layton had gotten a car. A bit on the small side, being one of the Eastern European models, and definitely not something he was used to "riding along" inside, but he did so. This was a bit nerve-wracking on Layton as well, as she had the imposing figure of the dark knight in the passenger seat the whole way. It ended up taking a few hours to get to where they were going. The roads weren't the best and they were dark, susceptible to whatever wild animals were out walking across. Before they were done, the area grew considerably more "marsh" as well as forested, although it stayed fairly flat. As it turned out, the place where Sophia took them to rent horses wouldn't open for another hour anyway by the time they got there, but that was irrelevant to Batman as he couldn't very well "rent a horse" dressed the way he was without tipping off everyone in this part of the country. They simply broke in and took two. Layton was a little standoffish about the whole thing, not really relishing the idea of theft, but in the end seemed to agree that it was for the "greater good". Both of them were already twenty minutes away by the time the place normally opened, but Batman made sure they went across the country first rather than right to the road. He didn't want them leaving a trail for the local police to track down. After all, this was "stealing", and would probably attract a great deal of unwanted attention…

However, after getting a few miles along, making sure to stay close enough to the road that Sophia said they needed to take, and hearing cars pass about three times followed by a three-hour absence, he moved his own mount closer to the road again, and soon on it. Sophia followed and maintained a short lead. The road itself seemed fairly straightforward at first. Rough, to be sure, but still capable of being driven on. However, not long after returning, Sophia took him off to a side road that went to a lower elevation. This one was covered with mud and deep puddled, and the gravel that had been used to maintain it had mostly washed away. She led him down this road and past a few other turnoffs before going down one in particular, then she made her way through that one a bit longer before turning onto a dirt road, in even worse condition than the last one. This one they were only on for a few minutes before finding a fallen tree across it. From the looks, it had happened a while ago, but not long enough to rot. A bit further, and part of the road was washed out.

"You've definitely established no one can get down this road normally." He said after a bit. "But that makes me wonder how they could have gotten the supplies out here."

"If times were really bad when I was younger, he'd move them out by horse or four-wheeler…but I don't think he could have moved all of that…" Sophia answered. "Maybe he airlifted it… If this is the same place I remember, there's no place to land a helicopter or a plane though…"

"Are you sure your father would even be holed up here?"

The woman swallowed, and then exhaled. "…I honestly don't know. It's just this is my only lead. But even if he's not here, there will hopefully be some information about where he _did_ go. He was shut down so quickly he told me he had left most of his files and papers there."

Batman frowned a bit at the thought. He was hoping this wasn't a "wild goose chase". Then again…what else did he have? Everything in Gotham was a dead end… He had definitely left the country, and all signs pointed to Latvia…

"…If you honestly feel your father is a 'good man'," The dark knight spoke again after a bit of silent riding. "Why were you trying to 'escape him' by immigrating to the USA?"

Sophia was silent for a few moments after hearing that. She slowly exhaled.

"…I swore I'd never tell a soul…but I can tell you this much. He had been retired for years from his 'old' practices…the ones where he practiced torture and abominations. Yet, there was a case where he tried one last 'improved' method…and it seemed to work."

"What method was that?"

"…I'm sorry, I can't say that either. He still had his brutality…his near sadism…but it had a positive result this time because he made it 'better'. He had…an epithany of sorts. Like I said before, for years he thought that insanity was an evil that had to be rooted out from the world…but, deep down inside, I think he believed his patients were the cause. Not external circumstances or backgrounds…but them. That's why he didn't care if he ended up killing them at first. Yet when he was confronted with the evil of what he had done…he finally improved the technique…and he ended up saving someone very, very close to me…"

"Who?"

Layton swallowed and looked back to him. "…If I tell you, do you promise not to ask any more questions about it?"

Batman's gaze narrowed. Not exactly the answer he wanted. However, he hadn't been in this "business" for so long without ways of getting people to say what he wanted to hear. Therefore, he gave a single nod.

She turned and bowed her head again.

"…My mother." She said quietly.

Now Batman was definitely intrigued. He wanted to ask more about this, but he remembered what he had just agreed to. Still, this was a surprise. Oracle hadn't mentioned that Layton's mother was still alive. But if she had retained her maiden name or even gone back to it, that only figured. Oracle was likely looking for a "Labdaris" or a similar name. Hers could have been completely different. Nevertheless, he wanted to know more about this…and what exactly Sophia's mother had been "saved from". Yet he needed to approach it from the right way…

After a time, however, Layton looked up and broke the silence herself.

"I'm…actually very surprised you followed me all the way to Eastern Europe." She said after a moment.

"Why is that? The police can't very well go overseas for them."

"I…guess I kind of thought you didn't really care about them." Sophia continued for a moment. "I thought anyone doing what you do would want them to suffer…"

"Don't be so confident that I'm going to be saving _them_." Batman answered. "In all likelihood, your father is the one who is in danger and will need rescuing."

Sophia hesitated for a moment, then bowed her head and trembled a bit.

"No…he isn't." She said quietly, but firmly. "The men and women in Arkham Asylum…they are 'tough'…but so are the people from this part of the world. Russia had its share of 'super-criminals', and they didn't go to a place like Arkham Asylum. Those in power didn't want them in Moscow. They wanted them sent to my father… I may have not been there when they actually carried out operations, but I read the stories and reports afterward. They had vicious and vile men like the ones you fight. And they fared no better than the normal patients… I do not know what my father could have done to them. Even internment camps and prisons in Siberia did not break some of these people…but _he_ did. I assure you that it is the people of Arkham Asylum you need to be concerned about…and the way you spoke to me before, I thought that _was_ why you were headed this way."

Batman said nothing in response. He showed no reaction to this latest bit of information, just continued to ride. After a moment, Sophia swallowed a bit, and then bowed her head.

"…Thank you." She said quietly.

This made Batman react slightly, although he didn't fully face her.

"I…guess I should have known all along…but I had my doubts… No one in Gotham City really knows 'who you are', after all." She went on. "But I know that most people would rather see these men and women dead. Even if my father tortures them all to death…no one would care. Most people would be glad for it. I'm happy that you actually see there's a chance for redemption in them…that they're worth saving."

Batman was quiet for a moment. He figured he could just remain silent after that. Let Layton continue to think that way. Yet as he rode on, something inside him twinged…gave him the urge to be honest. It wasn't necessarily for her. It had to do with what she said. The reason she thought he was out here. Something inside him knew what she said was a lie. Yet he felt the need to actually expose it right here…

"…I didn't come to save them because I feel they can be redeemed." He went on. "As I told you earlier, I don't think there's any going back for them. Not anymore. Not after they rose my hopes time and again only to come back worse. There was a time when the Joker only played harmless pranks. When the Mad Hatter was just a gimmicky villain with childhood fantasies. When even Poison Ivy had enough of a heart to protect children. Yet they always backslid…they always returned to their old ways, and worse than ever. Once the Martian Manhunter reshaped the Joker's brain…forcefully made him a 'sane' person. It didn't last more than a little while before he relapsed completely into insanity. Or perhaps he never was 'sane', even in that short period. Maybe he was just 'faking' it again like he tends to do. Pretending that somewhere inside that head there's a sane, innocent man who wants to get out. As time goes on…I wonder if there ever was one."

Sophia looked up a bit more to this. "I asked you this before, but you didn't answer. If you believe they can't be 'saved'…why do you always spare them?"

The dark knight didn't answer. He kept riding.

Layton blinked, and then looked away again. "…I suppose I have no right to ask you that. Not since I'm refusing to tell you my own secrets. It's just that you _must_ have a strong reason for not doing so. I can tell you're not like me…that the reason I try to treat them kindly is because I try to see the 'humanity' in everything. That I don't like to give up on 'hopeless cases'. Although…" She paused. "…You must think I'm horribly naïve. Everyone else does, after all…and it cost me my job not too long ago…"

"An asylum for the criminally insane is no place to 'try out theories'." Batman responded. "Even if they're more philosophical than otherwise. Those people exploited far too many over the years."

She grimaced. "…So I guess that makes me just a fool for having faith in nothing."

Batman paused, not immediately answering. He thought of staying silent for a bit. Yet in the end, he exhaled.

"…It makes you a bit too 'unethical' to work as a nurse inside a place like Arkham Asylum. …But while I won't dispute that most people would consider you just as you say…I would not be one of them. This world can be a dark and cruel place. And it's the darkness and cruelty that I took up arms against. That doesn't mean it's 'beyond saving', though." He looked slightly to her.

"…A man once told me what determines how you live is how you answer one question: do you believe some things are worth fighting for even if there's no way you can win?"

The woman looked up to him at that. She thought for a moment, thinking about all of what this statement meant. Yet in the end, she gave a nod. "Yes…I do."

Batman stared for a moment, and then turned away again. "As foolish as your belief is, and while it may ultimately end up being nothing…I'll have to admit, thinking the 'proper way' hasn't changed anything. And doing 'what everyone else has always done' tends to result in 'what everyone else always got'."

She blinked a few times, and then turned her head. "You…you believe in that too, don't you?" She asked after a moment. "You believe some things are worth fighting for even if there's no way to win. You have to. That's why you became…this, isn't it?" She gestured to the cowl and cape. "I hear Gotham City used to be far more corrupt…far more crime-ridden…that it was sunk in a depression because everyone else 'gave up'. They let crime come in and everything fall apart because they thought it was all a 'lost cause'…that the city would only get worse and belonged to the mobs."

Batman said nothing again.

Sophia, for the first time in a while, smiled a bit. A bit of the more "child-like" persona began to come out. "…I guess we're more alike than I thought. You just have hope in a 'different way'. I'm glad. I really am. I thought I was the only one…"

"I have hope for Gotham City." Batman flatly stated. "Not necessarily for everyone who lives in it."

The woman only smiled a bit more and gave a shrug. "It's a start, isn't it?"

Batman didn't look to her, although in his peripheral vision he could see the same idealist, cheerful nurse he had seen at the start of some of those movies. A part of him was disgusted by it…even almost sickened. But only a part of him. Another part looked and saw how the woman seemed years younger. She was almost 30, but when she smiled and acted like that the years seemed to melt away, leaving an early 20 year old or even a teenager. She radiated almost "fairy princess" innocence like this. And while a part of it made him want to roll his eyes and spit…he suppressed that part.

_…__What's so wrong with having innocence in the world? I said it myself…everyone who has 'given in' to thinking this world is a dark and rotten place didn't end up changing anything or helping anyone. It only made them 'contribute to the problem' by not even trying to fix it. Even if I do one day put all of these people away forever and stop every crime organization in town…it won't make a difference if everyone 'expects' those things to be there. There have to be some people who see hope in this world._

_ …__Like mom and dad did._

"…How much further?"

"We're doing better than I thought. The road is bad…but you should see it some years. We can't make it there tonight but hopefully by midday tomorrow we should be there if we can keep this pace up. Maybe earlier."

"Then let's keep going until it's too dark for the horses." Batman answered. "Does this place have cells in it?"

"I was never in the full compound…but yes."

"Good. Because if this ends up being where Dr. Labdaris is, they'll need to be put in cells for a little while longer until the local authorities can make it this far…or I can arrange for a way to get them out…"

* * *

Harvey could barely consume the pill he was given for medication when it was all finally done. He was in too much pain to feel, or even see and hear, anything but pain. They had to force feed him like a canine in order to get it. When he slowly came out of it, they were dragging his body, covered with fresh bites and blood not only on his feet and ankles but all along his torso, back to the cell.

The truth was since only "half" of him was the vile gangster…and that half was being suppressed so that his "good" half was coming out…he was horrified by what he saw happen to Zsasz. He hated the man, but a part of him still believed in justice and mercy…even if only a part of him. And to see that happen to him…to be forced to watch him slowly die as his face was splattered with his own blood and bits of his own remains…some of them clearly bone…and then to watch even after he died with that agony on his face as the wood chipper slowly consumed the rest of him…until he finally saw his head slowly eroded before his eyes… It horrified the former DA. He thought he could 'take it'. He thought he was strong enough. But after everything that had happened to him…he was becoming more "emotional". Less "hard" and "steely"…

By now, he was nearly dehydrated, his eyes were so blurry he couldn't see, and, in spite of all of his effort, when they gave him commands or orders and spoke sharply…he cringed. He couldn't help it. He was expecting pain. Even if his will was strong, his body was beginning to "obey". And with it came the mind. The constant aggressive torture and mental conditioning was beginning to weaken his already fragile mind. He realized he was starting to think of himself as being "subhuman"…or, at least, "less" than his captors. His attempts to fight that trend were only given more reinforcement. His body, weakened and battered, couldn't help it.

He didn't fight at all as he was chained to the wall again. He knew what was coming…the "coin torture" again. Once more they would offer him a choice with a vile option…and they would give him the biased coin so that he would always have to pick the "bad" choice. He was so thirsty now…not to mention starving. Oh, he had eaten the filth they had given him…and was even desperate for it now at some points. But it gave him food poisoning, of course…making his time even more miserable as he puked it up for the next few hours, and getting beaten every time he didn't do it in the right spot. He felt his thoughts starting to blur. He had a hard time focusing on memories of Gotham City, his career as a criminal and as a DA, or what came before. He had a hard time focusing on _anything_ besides his torture and torment…

He heard clicking. Somehow, he raised his head and looked through his blurred vision ahead of him. The two glasses. He could smell the vinegar in one. It was stronger than ever. They didn't throw the coin down to him now…they simply bent down and placed it in front of him.

"Flip, disgusting worm." The thick-accented man stated. "Heads, water. Tails, vinegar."

Harvey didn't move. He let out a groan.

"I said flip, you vile little maggot." The man spat.

He still didn't move.

Pain radiated through him as one of the men smashed him in an older injury in the side with a baton. "Do are you are told, you disgusting piece of slime!" One of them yelled. "Flip or have your medicine withheld again!"

He let out a groan. He stiffened and shook. For a moment, it looked like he was moving as he got his arms underneath him, very slowly. He pushed slightly…but he was too weak… His head pounded from lack of water. His tongue felt totally dry… He couldn't even speak anymore…

Another blow came. "Faster, stupid worm!"

The smack sent him back to the ground, and this time he was too weak to get back up. Too dizzy. The voices of the men echoed and rang through his head…reverberating like a church bell. They went on and on, in and out, and wouldn't stop…

More blows. More pain. Repeated this time. One insult after another, making him more and more "out of touch" with reality. Making his head swim more. Pain and dark… Pain and dark… Pain and dark…

Finally, it stopped, and he wouldn't move again. So the man came over, reached down, seized one of his hands, yanked it painfully in front of him, turned it over, and shoved the coin inside it.

"Flip, you nauseating maggot." He hissed. "Heads, water. Tails, vinegar."

Slowly, Harvey raised his head up to him. He dully looked at him through his blurry eyes.

"I said _flip._" The man coldly stated. "Do so by the time I count to ten, or you will receive no medicine for the next day."

Harvey groaned. He couldn't even protest. He held the coin in his hands. He was desperate to. If he let it fall…they might count that as a flip…

"Ten…nine…eight…"

He moaned again. He tried to raise his head. He couldn't. He couldn't lift his arm either.

"Seven…six…"

He tried to moisten his throat…beginning to make a noise in it…

"Five…four…"

Slowly, he closed his mouth and swallowed, somehow getting his larynx wet enough for one call.

"Three…two…"

Finally, he managed to croak. It was not in his "normal voice"…but it was loud enough to actually resound through the cell as he summoned all his strength to get it out. With all the life he could manage, he burst forth not in a croak or a moan...but for a few seconds gave out a loud and resounding cry.

"For the love of God…_give me the water!"_

He was too weakened after that. His head fell again, his eyes closed, and he panted. He expected beatings to come. He expected more calls of "worm" and "maggot". His grip, too weak, let the coin fall…and he was sure it was tails. Soon, he expected he would be seized by the scalp and the vinegar thrown in his face. Pain and dark… Pain and dark…

His head was pounding. His ears ringing. Unable to move or speak. And yet, slowly, he heard one thing…a light tap in front of him.

There was more movement around him, but no blows. It allowed him to crack open his eyes slightly. In spite of his blurry vision, he saw something.

A glass was in front of him of clear liquid. It had no scent…definitely not vinegar.

And the men in the chamber were walking toward the door…leaving him.

They had taken the coin and the vinegar with them.

He blinked slowly. He groaned, trying to speak again. However, no sound came, and soon the three men had exited, turned out the lights, and shut the door behind them. He was left with the glass. He stared at it.

It took him a solid fifteen minutes to finally get his grip on it. If it was what he thought it was, he dared not spill a single precious drop. Finally, he managed to move it to his lips. He placed them in it and sipped…

It had to be even cruder than what you would get from the tap at a public fountain…but it was like nectar of the gods to him. His mouth screamed in relief as the water soaked into it. It dried up long before it got to his throat, but the sensation gave him strength he didn't know he had to sip it more. This time, it moistened part of it before stopping. He sipped two more times before it made it all the way to his stomach. He never thought he'd be so grateful for water in his entire life… Yet even as he drank, he wondered why. Why they wouldn't beat him. Why they wouldn't insult him more. Why they didn't give him the vinegar the same as every other time he flipped for…

Then, he realized it.

_I _didn't_ flip for it. _

_I just told them to give it to me._

The man stopped drinking. He thought about that. He couldn't remember the last time he had been offered a choice and hadn't flipped for it. And yet…he hadn't even thought of it. He was so sick of the pain…the torment…everything about this place…he just wanted it to end. He didn't care if he was beaten more or had more medicine withheld. He just didn't want any more pain…and he had made a choice. A desire. Without the element of chance…

He didn't know what else to do from there. For the first hour of "peace" he had gotten in a while, he lay there…and thought.

* * *

"…Forgive me…"

Tears in her eyes, through clenched teeth, feeling like her heart was being torn in two…Pamela slowly pulled off a single leaf that she hoped was the weakest and most likely to fall from the plant, turned around to the rabbit, and with utter loathing inside her, held it out to the creature. It readily took it and ate it.

The room was still an oven…but she could feel it grow very slightly cooler. Enough to where even she had to exhale in relief. And when the white, full-spectrum light came on overhead…causing her skin to "come alive" and start photosynthesis…she actually felt like a living thing again. She hated herself. Her "thoughts" had changed as the torture went on. She found herself thinking of nothing but heat, pain, and torture. More endless pain…the bites from the beetles…and being hungry and dehydrated…

At last, she started thinking that one leaf wasn't much…how the plant could regrow…how a proper "pruning" might actually make it grow…how the rabbit really was just a dumb yet innocent creature…that it had already eaten far more…that at least this kept it from eating entire plants…

And finally, her rationalization led her to hurt one of her own babies and feed it to the rabbit. She couldn't take it anymore. She needed relief. She felt she'd die without it. And now, she was feeling just a tiny reprieve…a bit more alive.

Outside of her cell, the staff watched. They were visored now…not visible to Pamela as she fed the rabbit, and seemed to be trying to stop herself from tearing off another leaf to obtain even more relief. They made notes on charts. As they did, a figure stepped up behind them.

"She's beginning to comply?"

"I'd prefer if we could get her to demonstrate affection for the rabbit…but she's making progress now. Her love for plants is no longer 'absolute'. I think we can move onto stage three with her."

"Not yet. Let this last for a few days. She may get rebellious again if she gets a reprieve. If it does, be as severe as possible to wring it out of her."

"…Oh? I thought we were taking our time with these patients."

"Plans have changed. Sophia is on her way…and she's bringing the dark knight with her. We're moving to try and stop them, but if we fail, we could only have a couple days left. We need to progress the treatment as much as possible. And we'll do everything possible to keep the Batman from getting in here. And since my men failed to bring Sophia here, she needs to be silenced as soon as possible too. She will make more connections and lead him or the authorities here before we can finish."

"It's my understanding that 'the Batman' is strong enough to fight off all of us in here…perhaps even with the viral enhancements."

"He won't shrug _this_ off. All he needs to do is be scratched by one of the hypodermic guns with Lot-41 loaded and we'll have all the time we need. Still…keep the speed up. We won't be perfectly safe until Sophia is restrained…and he has joined the rest of these patients."

* * *

_To be continued..._


	7. Where Only Jackals Roam

AUTHOR'S NOTE: If anyone reads "Yuki no Megami", I regret to say there will be no update for that this week. This chapter simply took me too long and the next chapter of that story will be one of the biggest in the story, and is taking a great deal of time since pretty much every character is in it.

* * *

Within a darkened room inside Sheol, one of the "administrators" of the asylum looked over a series of monitors. Each one was black and white, but were also high resolution, able to make out a great deal of detail and yet be so small that they could be installed almost anywhere within any of the cells or halls. Color would normally be preferable, but this still worked out quite a bit. And in each of the cells, the man observing could make out what was transpiring.

In the cell on the left sat Edward Nigma. His head was covered with bruises, most of them around his jaw, and his tongue, swollen and bloody, was protruding from his mouth. He seemed exhausted, currently lying on the ground. It had taken a great deal of effort, but they managed to get him to stop answering riddles. He had to force himself to stop, and had been beating himself up to keep from making words. Such was good. Not only were they "breaking" him of his habit, but now that he was bowing to them in this regard, they were able to freely continue his verbal and mental abuse along with his physical abuse to break his ego and self-esteem completely. Along with that would be a "daily defamation". Daily affirmations worked, in spite of how they were made fun of by popular media. By doing them repeatedly, eventually the affirmations would become internalized. That was part of the reason the inmates had to say their oath every day. Slowly but surely, hastened thanks to their "therapy", their minds were being conditioned to believe the oath. All signs showed it was true…that they were becoming more subservient and compliant to their abuse. They were slowly starting to see themselves as less than human. This next part would make sure that Nigma began to believe, at least on a subconscious level, that he was, in fact, a fool and an imbecile compared to his caretakers.

The next one over showed Dr. Jonathan Crane. Excellent results there. Currently he was sitting across from another staff member who was wired up to sensors monitoring his heart rate along with his mental state and hormonal levels. He was having a conversation with Crane, talking to him about all sorts of personal items and boasting of his own courage. Crane, on the other hand, had wet himself by now from the amount of times he had been electrocuted…getting shocked every time he successfully caused a reaction to the staff member that increased his fear. It was having a dual effect. One was that Crane was being conditioned to be adverse to actually causing fear in others. Yet better than that, they were reacquainting Crane with fear itself. His case file indicated that he had suffered from a mental condition where he was left incapable of feeling fear…save for Batman himself. Yet even if his mind was "strong"…plenty of abuse, torture, food and water deprivation, sleep deprivation, and the like was more than enough to weaken his mind to where it began to copy his body's natural aversion to dangerous stimuli. Now all that was left to do was to increase his own "abuse" regimen until his own pride was broken and he became the very thing he sought to make others…a pathetic creature cringed in a ball of fear.

The one on the right was showing Harleen Quinzell…who was doing so well she was already almost past phase three. While she slept she was administered post-hypnotic suggestions via audiotapes to constantly make her consider the fact that she had been abandoned by the Joker in this place or that he was showing blatant disregard for her welfare. While all of it was true, Quinzell's "defense mechanism" of denial frequently led her to ignore that. But thanks to the tapes, her mental defenses broke and the abuse she was experiencing began to become internalized to her ideas of the Joker, slowly warping the "perfect" image of him she had in mind. Coupled with the fact that she believed she was abandoned by him and the constant abuse, her mind was shredding. She was beginning to fully degenerate both from a maturity standpoint as well as that of an individual. Even now, she had been huddled in a corner crying to herself for two hours since her last session.

Everything was going very well, in spite of the short time period. It seemed Dr. Labdaris' change to more aggressive therapy was still working out. They still needed a lot more time for permanent results, however. And there was still one patient causing problems of an unexpected variety: the Joker. He was complying with all therapy but, since there was no baseline for resistance, even with sensors and monitors it was impossible to see if he was doing better or not. Everyone was ordered to report the slightest thing out of the ordinary. Even a change toward more "accepted" behavior was now considered abnormal and would be reported on if it occurred. Apparently, the doctor was arranging something "special" for his treatment plan given this current chain of events…

Suddenly, a bit of static rang out from one of the receivers in the room, before a voice on a radio came in.

_"__This is Osprey." _It stated. _"Mastermind, do you read?"_

The staff member leaned over and threw a switch. "Yes, Osprey. I read you."

_"__Lot-41 is primed and ready. Last check on Orderly units is positive. Outermost sensor detects the two of them coming in."_

"Understood. I'm monitoring the situation for reporting now. Be advised in the worst case scenario you are to pull out immediately, and that at minimum you are to try and make contact with Lot-41 with both individuals. You may proceed."

* * *

Batman went ahead and rested that evening. A part of him told himself to press forward, but he wasn't used to riding, and he realized that if he ended up being at Labdaris' asylum, there was a good chance he would have to deal with more of those men he engaged the other day as well as more of those machines, to say nothing of the Arkham inmates who were there. Yet as he consented to lay down for the night, his mind couldn't help but go over his "reasoning" again and again…as if he was confirming to himself that this was indeed the reason.

Again, he found himself wondering if he was doing everything that was "necessary" to effect a rescue. If there were details he could have "pushed forward". When dealing with intergalactic threats that the Justice League encountered, he knew he could come up with rather advanced solutions in no time. Yet now, for something so simple as getting a vehicle into this part of Latvia, he began to wonder if he was really so "thwarted"…or if something in his mind was making him "take his time"…

In fact, he was finding himself doing that at every delay, even if it was for things perfectly reasonable like watering the horses or taking a restroom break in the woods. He continuously questioned whether or not he was really doing all he could…or if somewhere he wanted to draw this out, knowing everything he knew of Labdaris…

Yet while the sun was still coming up early the next morning, for they had departed as soon as they sky had enough light in it to see, they arrived.

It was a cold day. Quiet. Batman could easily detect the isolation of this area. The first thing he saw as they rode up, barely visible in the lifting darkness, was that a great deal of the trees, which had grown larger and thicker as they entered this portion of the country, had been cleared away. What was left was a vast, long, plain filled with nothing but rocks and bits of old wood, like stumps. Looking a bit closer, the rocks proved to be mixed in with remains of pavement. The dark knight realized this was the remains of a landing strip. It made sense. This was probably the best way to get inmates in and out when there were no roads. It wasn't big enough for anything more than small planes, so they had to shuttle in patients one at a time, but so long as the inmate couldn't fly a plane it would also be easy to move them in without escaping. Far better than trying to get them through the woods where they had dozens of places to hide.

However, a bit beyond that was the main structure itself. Before Batman even took anything about it in, he went to his belt and "pinged" the nearest GPS satellite. There wasn't much coverage out there, but he got a signal and, as a result, logged the latitude and longitude. Now if for whatever reason they ever left and he had to come back, the Batwing would suffice. After that, he studied the main facility. There was a small opening in front of it that looked like it had been a sort of court or "front plaza" in the past. Even after decades, the grass hadn't regrown in front of it. But then there was the facility itself.

In many ways, it reminded Batman of Arkham Asylum's older buildings…only even more gothic, built of more stone, and looking far darker and more ominous due to being abandoned. Yet if it had been in service he could have easily mistaken it for one of the buildings in Arkham's own layout. It loomed tall and ancient, with archways and masonry that made it resemble something from the medieval era or even a cathedral of sorts. A sloped roof with shingles that had mostly been blown off and even sported a few holes, for as tall as the building it was it hadn't "overshot" the tallest trees, and they had fallen on it and damaged it over time. High-arched windows that had been boarded up or, in some case, even mortared. Crumbling stonework in various spots. If one looked at it in a certain way, they could almost pretend it was the decaying ruins of a castle or fortress rather than an asylum. Yet even in its "day", Batman knew it wouldn't have given any "warm" or "welcoming" impression. Yet neither would it have given the look of a cold, emotionless "facility". This building was geared for one thing…fear and pain.

As the two slowly came up to it, it seemed to cast a dark shadow over them. Such was impossible, considering how early it was, and yet it still seemed to cast darkness about it. Batman turned on his light before they got there, but on looking over it, he only saw darkened windows that had been closed up on the bottom floor. The glass had long since broken out, leaving it easy for wildlife to get inside. Sure enough, a few bats flitted out when the light hit it, causing Sophia to give a momentary whine, before he saw the eyes of a fox gleam in the darkness, looking back at this "strange visitor". At any rate, one thing that _had _remained intact over the years were thick iron bars over each window. Closely spaced so much that no human could squeeze through, although apparently the fox and the bats could. One thing he noticed predominantly, however, was that the front doors had definitely been pried open. There had been two-by-fours and plywood nailed over it at one point, but those had been removed. The impression of where the boards had been remained, indicating how many years they had resided there. This hadn't been something that had happened shortly after it was closed down…

Still, it made sense as to why this building was still standing. This far out in the middle of nowhere, it had to have been a defensive emplacement from centuries earlier that had been refurbished by the USSR for Dr. Labdaris, and demolishing it would have been too expensive during the latter days of the Soviet Union. They had likely stripped it for plumbing and wiring and then left it to rot. At any rate, the two soon pulled their horses to a halt at a short distance from the front doors.

Sophia looked over the ruin for a moment, and then exhaled. It sounded like a mixture of relief and disappointment. "…He's not here. The asylum looks like it hasn't been used since the day the Soviets shut it down." She cringed a bit, letting out a bit of a shiver in the cool weather. "I honestly cannot say if I should feel bad or relieved…"

"Hopeful." Batman corrected, as he began to lead his horse to one side, to the nearest low-hanging tree he could tie it too. "That door has obviously been forced recently. And look to the ground."

The woman did so. She ended up having to turn on her own flashlight and shine it down to make sure, but there were footprints from numerous sets of boots in the dirt portions around the front of the building.

"I seriously doubt there would be 20 year old footprints here." Batman stated. "Those had to have been made more recently, likely prior to the last time it rained. They at least were here recently."

Sophia blinked a few times, but was forced to agree. She soon led her horse over as well. Two minutes later, both had dismounted and tied the reins to a fairly sturdy branch. Batman tried to tie his as best as he could. He had a bad feeling about this place, even if it looked as if Labdaris' men had already come and gone. He found it hard to believe that if Labdaris knew that Sophia was here that he wouldn't anticipate she would also go to the most likely place for clues. If his goal was to keep Sophia from going to the police, he probably had them stationed out at the station, but they also had to have been waiting here. He hadn't seen anything coming in, but he had wished he could have afforded to bring his short range "heat" detector for signal activity. As it was, this place was filled with so much darkness and trees they could both be monitored and have no idea it was happening.

As the woman took off her backpack and kept only her flashlight, she looked to the asylum and shivered again.

"…This place always scared me." She mentioned aloud. "Even as a child, I knew it wasn't a 'good' place. I hated that father would be here for long stretches of time. I thought…it was evil. I've never been that far into it, either. I'm really not sure what's inside…only that when we go in we're going to get a better idea of what my father did to those people that drove them mad…"

"Keep your eyes open." Batman said quietly. "Tell me the slightest thing that looks out of the ordinary, but most of all keep on the look out for any sort of LED."

Sophia looked to him as he swept his cape around and began to walk for the front of the building. "I seriously doubt your father wouldn't have some sort of signal in place to let him know someone has come here, not after all the lengths he went to in order to get you. My guess is he at least has an alarm here…and possibly something much worse. Stay close."

Layton swallowed a bit on hearing that, but gave a hesitant nod. Looking around uncomfortably, she began to follow after him as he started to walk back to the front entrance.

* * *

Getting inside was no problem. The doors had been closed again, but all the boards and padlocks had already been cut. Unfortunately, Batman couldn't place the time…only that it wasn't too terribly recently. Sure enough, the plumbing and the wiring had mostly been removed. Anything of "value" that could be scrounged.

The first part wasn't too "bad". It was far from welcoming, though. The structure was as dark and cold as a 1930s institution. The mortar and concrete that had been put up to give an environment for "normal" people was still cold and disconnected. There was a splash of green paint here and there that had begun to peel and was never replaced, clearly a "calming" color based on the research, but it was mostly like walking into a inquisitor's chamber for the front offices. The "receptionist" desk looked almost like one of those high-rising judgment seats, and even the rotting wood it was made out of made it look especially heavy-handed and dark. There was no lighting anymore, but Batman could tell where the fixtures had been. It all gave the look of someone passing down an eternal sentence rather than admitting into a medical facility…

As he looked over the various patches of rot and mold, flickering his flashlight over the rather unfriendly and unsettling interior, he finally looked forward again, past the desk. Sophia swallowed a bit, and then gestured.

"…I've never seen what was beyond here, but that's the hall that leads to the treatment. The doctors were located beyond it."

"Is there an 'employee' entrance?"

She shook her head. "The front doors are the only way in and out. There aren't even fire escapes. All of the windows were barred. No one could get in or out without going through those checkpoints."

"If there had been an uprising, the doctors would be trapped inside." Batman mentioned.

"The Soviets would have preferred a 'shooting gallery', my father once said…" The woman quietly answered. "Besides…I'm not sure escape was so easy…"

Batman said nothing in response, only moved on afterward. Layton slowed down even more as they neared the doors. She consciously began to tremble, and even in the darkness she saw her pallor go a bit wan. However, she stayed close to Batman and finally went in. Sure enough, there were numerous security checkpoints. Lacking anything "sophisticated"…they were nothing more than a series of stone rooms with places for men with guns. They would simply shoot any inmate who tried to get out, crazy or sane, it appeared…

Yet on stepping inside, the real "horrors" began.

It must have been a medieval castle at one point, for there wasn't a single thing "homey" or "inviting" about the entire structure. All it amounted to was a dank, bleak dungeon. Stone and mortar were used for all the walls, with nothing but cruel iron bars and hard, rocky floors and ceilings for "décor". No windows at all anywhere. Even if it had been the middle of the day, both of them would have needed their flashlights as they moved in. The various places for patients didn't even look like rooms or cells, but more like "pens". It would have been easy to mistake this place for a facility that was hundreds of years old rather than just 20 if not for periodic signs of "modernization". A trash can that had never been emptied. A cabinet that must have been used for medical supplies that had long since been raided. A storage closet that had spare sheets and what looked like fossilized cleaner in a jug along with a mop. But all in all, the place was dank and dark. Water leaked in multiple places, creating not only a constant echoing dripping sound but also causing mold and algae to grow in places. There were occasional puddles, and numerous cockroaches among other bugs scattered from the light periodically. All in all, not a wholesome place. It was good that most "perishable" items were gone long ago, or it might have been infested with rats as well.

As they wound their way through the darkness, however, they soon saw things that made Layton gasp and cringe. Some of Dr. Labdaris' "treatment" devices. To call them anything less than medieval torture would have been a lie. Some of them really did look like it. There was a rack, shackles for an "iron cross", and even something that shouldn't have been there…an "Iron Maiden". Contrary to popular myth, there was little evidence that an iron maiden was ever used as a real torture device…but it seemed Dr. Labdaris had put it into practice. Batman didn't care for the fact when they walked by it that numerous tips of the spikes inside it were rusted…clearly the result of blood upon them. Yet in addition there were places for fire-hose strength water projectors, areas that had obviously been used as human-sized ovens or coolers, solitary confinement areas that looked more like iron, black coffins, generators that normally would have seemed more at home with an electric chair than for shock treatments, places where it looked like insects, perhaps red ants or bees, had been implemented... Sophia couldn't bear to look by the enormous wooden wheel when they got to it. It was only one of several devices meant to work a patient to exhaustion and then torture them afterward. The place was demented. Lined with chains and shackles everywhere. It seemed to outshine even the malice and cruelty of Lyle Bolton…

Sophia, however, grew progressively more uneasy as she looked at all of this. Her breathing and panting became palpable, cringing more and more. The woman looked like she was walking into a horror film…and, to be honest, she wasn't that far from the truth. But to see what her father had actually done…to see signs of wear and tear around shackles where madmen had tried to sever their own hands trying to escape…to see the bloodstains here and there…

After a time, he spoke out to her. "Are you alright?"

"I…I knew he did terrible things, but…but this…" She slowly remarked, made even more nervous by the fact that her voice echoed through the stone halls. "It's as bad as the madmen he treated…"

Batman kept walking, but after hearing this, he began to wonder if she was rethinking her statement earlier that her father was a "good man". Instead, he was more direct. "Can you keep going?"

She swallowed, but nodded and managed to keep walking. "I just…need to keep my eyes forward…"

What made everything worse in this dark, cold, dank place was that most of the facility proved to be under the ground. For all of the windows they had seen outside, those were all on the upper floors, which wasn't reserved for the patients. Those were all beneath the ground. They saw stone stairways leading down here and there, always spiraling, and looking even more like something out of a movie with a dungeon. They didn't head for those. They kept going all the way to the back and through another security checkpoint. On passing through, they finally reached a place that, while still dark, had been built up to look more "habitable". Wood paneling had been installed as well as some ductwork that allowed heating and cooling. The stairs toward the rear had been painted and polished at one point, and when they went up them, they emerged into the upper floors, which were more habitable and clean.

There were actually some windows up on this floor, for all the good it did. There were also some genuine medical facilities, although they had been raided and torn apart long ago. While they were a bit more "inviting", they still looked like something out of the 1940s at the earliest, and had been decaying since then. Obviously they were younger than that, although it didn't show. A bit further on were various offices. Most were reserved for the orderlies. Batman noticed there were living facilities there too, complete with the remains of kitchens that used electricity. Out here, he was sure the place had its own generator that had long since been removed. It was the only way to keep the asylum powered this far from civilization. Still, a lot of it seemed to rely on gasworks and even a fireplace or two.

Wandering past all of this, they finally reached the main part of "administration". The offices here looked the nicest, as if some art and décor had actually been used with them. However, all the valuable furniture had been removed, and whatever wood, glass, and paneling hadn't been broken or stolen was ruined by rot and age. Birds flew out in fear as they neared the rear portion, where a rotunda faced a number of offices. Although the place was rotting and old, it took the two of them only a moment to spot that there was still a sign pointing to the central, and largest, one: Dr. Klaudius Labdaris.

Yet even if the sign hadn't been there, the door that had led inside had been broken down, nearly splintered in half to get in. And he could tell the damage was as recent as the doors outside.

"It seems a bit odd that your father wouldn't have the key to his own office…" He remarked.

"My guess is he either sent one of his men or the Soviets were the ones who locked it up…" She answered uneasily, as if afraid of what she'd find in there. However, Batman didn't hesitate for long. He soon walked straight in through the threshold and, not wanting to be left alone, walked in as well.

There were windows in this room, but they had been bricked up long ago. The chamber was a converted room of the original structure, so there was a high ceiling that had windows on a higher level. They were covered with bars, but other than that allowed light inside. However, the sky was only turning dark blue right now. It didn't provide enough light to turn off the flashlights, so they kept them on and looked inside.

The place had been stripped bare some time ago. Batman wasn't sure if Labdaris had it cleaned out recently or if he had taken everything with him when the Soviets forced him out. However, the former seemed to be at least partially true. There was not one but two large safes in the chamber, both having to weigh several hundred pounds, and both had been opened, based on the discoloration differences, not long ago. It was ironically a "good measure". Because they were so heavy, and this place was in the middle of nowhere, there had been no easy way the Soviets could have moved them out to a safecracker or appropriate cutting tools if they were trying to "grab everything and go". They had been left behind. Only now it looked as if they had indeed had their locks cut, and the metal cabinets hung ajar.

Batman approached these two, Sophia right behind him, and got in front of one. Some of the files had obviously been taken, but a lot had been left behind. There were stacks of files and papers within, and the few that had been raided had dropped inserts and folders. He began to look over these for clues, reaching in and rifling around, holding each new one up to the light. A lot of them were old patient files…something that actually surprised him. This place was already very secretive to begin with, but it was his understanding that most of the inmates were madmen. Yet it seemed that he was trying to keep their identities a secret to the general public anyway.

"So…what should I look for?" Sophia asked as she moved over to the other safe, wanting to "help", it appeared.

"I don't have the equipment to do an in-depth analysis of any evidence that might have been left behind on whoever went over these files." The dark knight answered. "But aside from the obvious, like an address, I'd like to see if I could find out why these safes were opened in the first place."

Sophia looked up a bit at that. "What do you mean?"

"Your father obviously doesn't want anyone stopping his work, which is why he sent men to intercept you on arrival in Latvia. Yet he's not here, in the most likely spot where he could have continued his 'practice'. In spite of that…he was definitely here recently. It makes me begin to wonder why your father chose Gotham City of all places, and why, out of all the criminally insane in the world, those men in particular."

The woman exhaled and shook her head as she looked to her own cabinet. "I couldn't tell you…especially not since he supposedly quit so many years ago. Maybe he found a new treatment method that he thought he had to try… Maybe he thought like the rest of the doctors at Arkahm do…that all they need to do is cure the infamous patients there and they will have everlasting renown… Maybe he saw them as the most 'evil' of his possible inmates… But you're right. I do not know why he would come here under normal circumstances. All that should have been in here was old patient records…"

Batman continued to search through the files as Layton spoke, but after a time…he reached a folder that had been emptied that he focused on. Unlike the others, which had fairly detailed information on the tabs, both in terms of serial numbers as well as names, this one only had a single word in bold.

_SHEOL._

His gaze narrowed. Pulling it out a bit, he looked around the room a little more. It wasn't long before he saw something he had missed before…something that was hanging above the door to the room. It was a painting…and a rather large one. Enough to take up most of the back wall, and something that Labdaris must have been able to stare at for hours on end while he was working at his desk…

A picture of Hell…featuring souls being burned in what looked like a massive pillar of fire…which was slowly "melting off" their wickedness and sin to leave them purified…

Technically, it was mixing two separate concepts…the older Jewish thought of the afterlife, or lack thereof, and the ideas of the flames of Hell being a "refining" fire…

He looked to Layton, holding the file up. "This mean anything to you?"

Sophia turned and looked, able to see the name on the file even in the darkness, as big and bold as the lettering was. Her brow furrowed in confusion. "What's that word?"

"It's Jewish." Batman responded as he turned the file back over and opened it up. Sure enough, there wasn't anything in there, but he wasn't giving up hope yet. It had made a sticky noise on prying open, as he hoped, and he began to set it down flat so that he could shine his light upon it. "Before there was a concept of the afterlife, it was believed all individuals went the same place when they died…a bottomless, black pit that one simply falls into forever. Yet in spite of being 'universal', a lot of thought was devoted to the idea that it would be the wicked who would get the worst of it. What I'm focusing on is that it's a location. Somehow I doubt your father would have kept a file devoted just to research that."

He slowly turned the file around as he held the light to it. After a time, he began to make it out…something he suspected might be the case but he was now receiving confirmation. There were lines of "adhesion" along the sides of the file interior, the result, no doubt, of having had certain types of paper with certain types of ink reside in it for so many years with moisture and time affecting it. Sandwiched in with all of the rest of the files for that long, the end result meant that, even if the files inside were gone, at least the top sheet had been "shadowed". One could just read the former top sheet of the file.

It was "mirrored" and spotty in places, requiring a great deal of Batman's concentration, but he looked it over none the less. Layton soon moved in a bit more, trying to see what was going on.

"What does it say?"

"It's an old memorandum." He responded. "It looks like it was transmitted by old wire rather than a more modern fax. They probably couldn't get machines like that working out here. At any rate, it's dated a full ten years before the time your father would have 'retired'. It's more than a little hard to read mirrored Russian…but the gist that I'm getting from it is that they were beginning groundbreaking work on an 'advanced' facility during that time."

Layton blinked. "Advanced facility? You mean they were moving my father to some place besides here?"

"Ten years before he retired." Batman echoed. "Cold War still going on, and your father's reputation not yet tarnished. Even if it was, it was his power to cure the insane and to torment POWs that they wanted. It's possible they were giving him a facility better equipped and yet more in tune with his 'therapy' to make it easier to get information from prisoners, and that he, in turn, wished to use for more patients. The name seems to be fitting…"

The woman, in spite of this, brightened up slightly. "Is this what we're looking for? Where he might have relocated to?"

"Most of the rest of these files appear to be old patient data, so it might be the best bet, even if it's a gamble." Batman responded. "Ten years before he ended practicing isn't a whole lot of time before the fall of the Soviet Union, and they were no doubt 'pinching pennies'. This was only the first letter in the file. It could have been the only one, or there could have been a hundred messages after this. Your father obviously never started work in the place so it's reasonable to assume it was never completed, but if it was close enough to be used by him, or refurbished…that's another matter entirely."

He looked over the paper a bit more, and made a note of one item. Reaching down to his belt, he got out his GPS and proceeded to plug in a set of coordinates he found.

"…One thing is for sure: this place wasn't easily accessible. There's no address leading to it. It only has site coordinates of latitude and longitude."

"And where are they?"

"I'm not so good with these sorts of things that I can tell you the pinpointed location off the top of my head, but I can tell you it's located in the ocean northwest of Russia's coast, above the Arctic Circle."

* * *

The two looked for a bit more information while they were there, but found little. Definitely no other locations that seemed promising except for the one that they found within the empty file. Batman noticed that some of Labdaris' papers were missing as well, ones that had to have included unpublished reports and perhaps roughs of his published ones, but nothing else. Batman, on his part, worked quickly. In spite of neither he nor Layton seeing anything on the way in, he was still nervous that this was a setup. The fact that he was in what amounted to a stone fortress with only one way in or out wasn't terribly comforting. On making a note of all of the data and saving some to be reviewed later, he announced to Layton that they were leaving.

The woman was reluctant to go back through the "chamber of horrors", and Batman couldn't say he blamed her, but it was that or nothing, and he was eager to go. Luckily, she seemed to be a bit "braver" staying around him. After all, simply going to this facility meant riding on horseback through a long, empty forest overnight, which was terrifying enough, but it appeared she was realizing the dark knight was more of a source of comfort and safety than a hostile. She seemed more at ease around him.

After a time, they reached the front checkpoint. Layton let out a sigh of relief here, because by now there was enough daylight to see the front patio, and it was visible through the front doors, propped wide open. She began to move a bit faster here, clearly eager to get outside.

She was stopped cold when Batman extended an arm and seized her by the shoulder.

The woman snapped around in alarm. "What's wrong?"

"I shut the doors behind us when we came in." He darkly responded.

Sophia went still at that, clearly nervous. Batman, on his part, quickly turned off his flashlight, and made a signal for her to stay back and get near the side wall of the front entrance. She did so, while he crouched lower and moved in closer. He didn't step into the light, although he did look outside into the forest. Unfortunately, the area in front of the building itself was more heavily wooded. There were far more shadows and places to take cover. And he realized parts of the building had been so enclosed that it might have been possible to avoid hearing a number of vehicles landing. Inching a bit closer, he began to pivot in front of the door, not stepping out of the dark but looking about.

Nothing. Apparently, if any vehicles were out here, they had been concealed or dismounted at a distance. Four wheelers could make the trip out here. A helicopter might too, although he was pretty sure that would have been loud enough to hear even in the ruined asylum. Yet he couldn't be positive...

He held a bit more, and then looked around. There wasn't much in here he could use, but he spotted the rotted remain of a spare beam that probably had been used initially with the intent to board up the building, and reached over and silently took it up. A moment later, he inched forward a bit more, suspending the end out with one arm toward what he believed to be the "head region", and moved it closer to the light.

An instant later, he heard a "thunk", and so did Layton, who, in spite of herself, let out a cry that echoed on seeing a dart having sailed through the air and embedded in the wood.

Batman frowned as he pulled it back. It appeared to be another one of those hypodermic gun darts. However, on pulling it back, and reaching over to yank it out and examine it more closely, he frowned a bit more. He was familiar with how these things looked like when filled with tranquilizer. This one had more of a medium inside of it. He remembered earlier that viruses were used to incapacitate the inmates of Arkham… He had some cure on him for the strain that was in the mouse, but…he wasn't sure what strain this was. If it was different, the cure might be useless…

"…What's wrong?" Sophia whispered after a moment out to him.

Batman supposed now was as good a time as any to ask about it. "What do you know about your father involving viruses?"

"Wha…viruses?" She asked incredulously. "Nothing. Viruses have nothing to do with his work…"

However, after saying this, she paused.

"Although…"

Batman turned fully to her.

"Father told me once that they had this wild patient that nothing could sedate. His energy seemed boundless. They tried to restrain him, but they couldn't keep him totally restrained all the time. He said that he finally found a way to stop it…exposing him to the influenza that one of his staff members had caught. He was too sick and weak to fight after that and he was forced to lie down and rest. I never thought much of it…because his practice was closed soon after…but now that I think on it he spoke about that for a whole week while he was at home…"

"I'm pretty sure your father was either smart enough to 'weaponize' viruses or hire someone who is." Batman responded. "Fairly clever, too. If he found a way to give people mild enough viruses to leave them weak but not put them in mortal danger, it's far more effective than trying to sedate them. Drugs can have immunities develop or eventually become fatal. But viruses are more 'natural' and, while less controllable, can have effects harder to negate…"

_"__Miss Labdaris! The Batman!"_

The voice came through a loudspeaker, and it was in Latvian. Batman immediately looked up, as did Sophia. There was no one visible outside from their angle, but he didn't move.

_"__Walk out and give yourselves up!" _The voice shouted. _"There's no way out of here! We've already loosed your horses! And this is the only entrance in or out! You will both be treated well until we arrive at the new facility if you cooperate! If you refuse, we will use force, and it will be regrettably painful for Miss Labdaris as well as you! You did well against one 'Orderly' unit back in Gotham City, but now we have eight! You cannot hope to take all of them as well as the rest of us, and you have no means of striking us all together! You can't stay in that building forever! You can only surrender!"_

Batman didn't move right away as he heard these demands. True enough, they had him in a bad spot. He didn't have his normal gadgetry to break out of another window. Perhaps one of his small explosives would handle a bricked-up one, but not without causing a loud alarm. He left his cutting torch back home for iron bars. Besides…while he could possibly blast an exit from an upper window and jump for it, Layton definitely couldn't, and he wasn't sure he could escape across country dragging her along. There was indeed only one way in or one way out: the front. And unable to see any targets, there was no way he could use that to his advantage. Even luring some of them out wouldn't be good enough. At the bare minimum, he needed enough time to not only get out there and get into cover to have a shot against them, or find some way to lure them within. Yet he was sure that they'd only send in those 'Orderly' machines after him…and right now he didn't even have the luxury of seeing _them_.

A moment later, before he could stop her, Layton shouted out.

"It's only me who's here! I only kept the other horse for baggage!" She shouted back out. "And before I go with you I want to speak with my father!"

_"__Your father isn't here, and don't take us for fools, Miss Labdaris." _The voice on the megaphone came back. _"We know you were paired with the Batman. We know he has to be in there with you."_

Layton uneasily turned to Batman. "…I'm sorry." She quietly said. "I tried…"

"I'm not interested in losing you to your father yet." Batman responded. "Now that I know where I'm going, I'm going to rely on you to get to the authorities once we're out of here."

"What can we do?" She asked. "They have to be watching for us…"

_"__We're not going to wait any longer!" _The voice shouted back before Sophia could say anymore. A moment later, both she and Batman were able to see the underbrush appear, and soon after, eight of the machines Batman had battled earlier began to come out. They marched in perfect lock-step, each one tall and imposing, and began to advance on the front. They moved slow, but it was clear they didn't have much time…

The woman turned back to him. "Can you stop them?"

Batman was already going for his belt. "No." He flatly answered. "There's too many and I don't have a target. If they get in here, my guess is they have a way of locating individuals in the dark, and while my current Batsuit has night-vision, the range is limited and darkness won't hinder them. Besides…they'll be using them for cover to come in behind and attack us. The only chance we have is if I can get outside, and even then it's only slim with the sun rising. There's not much left to hide in…"

He turned to her with a look that made her actually recoil a bit.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to help."

The nurse gulped a bit on hearing that, clearly anxious about that sort of response. However, after a moment, she forced her fear down. She seemed to realize this was a "do-or-die" situation and she couldn't go with her father. And so, she gave a hesitant nod.

"What…should I do?"

* * *

The Orderlies only closed about half the distance before a shout rang out from the entrance.

"Alright, alright! I'll come out!"

The man concealed in the tree line who was acting as the "mouthpiece", speaking into a small radio amplifier rather than a true "megaphone", immediately clicked the button and spoke again.

_"Then come out now__."_

"Make those things stop coming!" The woman's voice immediately shot back. "I'm not a patient or a criminal that I want you treating me like one! I'll come quietly so stop them now!"

The man hesitated. He looked to either side of him, where two other gunners were concealed in some brush with rifles loaded with the Lot-41 virus in special darts aimed at the front. They both gave him dull looks back, neither shaking their heads or nodding. It seemed the choice was left up to him. After a moment, he gave a gesture and mouthed something as if to keep their eyes out for the Batman. After that, he reached into his pocket and emerged with a special "override" remote, clicking the button to tell the drones to halt where they were. They immediately stopped. Even as he did this, however, four of the other men in the area began to spread out farther, making sure they could get a better target on the doorway beyond, in case the Batman tried anything "heroic" while they were dealing with her.

The man clicked the receiver again. _"Alright, they're stopped. Come out. Now."_

There wasn't much pause this time. Almost right after the last of his ultimatums died down, the figure of Sophia Layton, sans her gear and only wearing her hiking belt and a thick jacket, almost trembling as she did so, came out with her hands balled into fists and her arms cringed around her. Soon, she was nervously making her way up to the stalled machines, and actually managed a fairly decent pace. Yet only a few eyes were on her. The majority were on the front entrance, and even on the upper floors of the old asylum. Every last man expected the Batman to try something during this. Sophia had been quiet too long. She had to have been planning something, and the Batman had to be there due to how one of the misfired shots had been triggered. Based on what they had heard and seen about this woman, none of the men believed she was "smart enough" to try the ruse herself.

Still trembling, and seeming to slow a bit, the woman drew closer and closer to the imposing Orderlies. They looked to her dully, their simple AI telling not to restrain her or move her until she got close enough to them to reach. Still, most of the eyes remained on the front entrance. The fact that the woman moved slower only told them more that Batman was planning for something at any minute. Everyone's fingers were already pulling back on the triggers…

Finally, something happened just as Layton reached the Orderlies. A loud rush of air went out, obviously a pressurized explosion, followed by an eruption of smoke from the entrance. She even cringed and gave a cry as it happened. The men realized the dark knight was trying to break for it. At once, each of them fired away into the smoke, trying to peg him instantly before he even had a chance to break for it. "Holes" began to pop into the gloom as the darts shot out…

When, suddenly, something unexpected happened.

Layton's arms flailed wildly, and on doing so she opened her fists…revealing a pair of small devices that instantly went out and struck two of the Orderlies in the chest region. A moment later, and a massive "crackle-zap" sound like an overzied mosquito zapper rang through the air as showers of electricity emitted from the devices. They enveloped the heads and torsos of two of them…and both machines spasmed for a moment before falling back, both deactivated.

At once, the men reacted in surprise, seeing two of their "heavy hitters" taken down in an instant. Their attention and weapons spun fully to Layton now, having not even suspected the EMP grenades. For a moment, their minds instinctively thought the Batman. Only he could have the gadgetry and know-how to be able to do this. Not the timid woman before them. They expect him to somehow "pop out" like a rabbit in a magic show, and then immediately wished to fire on him. A moment later, they realized that she must have gotten weaponry from him, and their minds began to click to that effect…but it was too late.

Batman only had a few batches of explosive on him and they normally weren't meant for being "cast"…but he had jury rigged them up to detonate on a hard enough impact. As soon as the fire let up from the darts into his smoke bomb, which he had indeed thrown but hadn't been present in, rather crawling underneath it and letting the darts fly overhead, he sprung to his feet and threw the explosives in four directions as fast as he could. Thanks to the lines in the smoke overhead, he got at least a general idea of where they were. He had to move fast and had little room for error, but even so he hardly expected to be able to hit them accurately. Yet between his accuracy and strength, he successfully got all four, one after another, launched at least in the general vicinity of most of the shooters, and a second later they went off, the loudness, noise, and bits of dirt and rock being thrown at them distracting them all.

Now…he ran for it. Breaking through the smoke, he cut and ran for the right. Layton, on her part, quickly used the distraction to break in the opposite direction, not nearly as fast or as quick and fumbling in her coat pockets as she did so. Even as Batman ran for the nearest bit of tree cover, he quickly reached for his belt and yanked out a pair of batarangs. He hoped that his cape would provide enough stopping power for darts from behind, but his main attention was ahead of him, looking for shooters and hoping he could spot them before they spotted him. He had to get to cover as fast as possible…

As he dashed along, sure enough, he caught a flash of light…one of the shooters recovering from the nearest explosion getting up and aiming a gun again. At once, his batarang went flying in what he hoped, in the dimness, was one of his opponent's eyes. It seemed to be accurate, as he heard a cry a moment later and a recoil. Even if these men couldn't feel pain, they couldn't shoot when blinded. A moment later, he saw another get up in front of him…much closer. By the time he managed to spot him in the shadows and brush, the shooter nearly had a bead on him. Quickly, he flung out another batarang, this one aimed for his neck. It was a bit harder considering he was using a rifle, but he did manage to hit him enough to make his next shot go wide and outside, whizzing past his cowl.

Nearly to the brush, Batman pushed on the speed and made right for the one he just stunned. As he did, another man with a rifle had already recovered and was aiming for him. He ignored Layton even as she ran right up to him, knowing she wouldn't be nearly as hard to shoot and capture later. However…that was another mistake on his part as Layton's hands came out of her pockets…bearing Batman's dart gun. He barely had time to see her raise her arms and aim for him before she fired. She yelped as she did so and shot erratically, and two of the darts missed, giving him he chance to try and aim at her…before the third landed in his chest. He gagged, moaned, and then went limp and collapsed. Layton was clear to run into the tree cover herself.

As for Batman, as the man in front of him moved to get up…he suddenly crouched and lunged at him, his cape splaying widely…thereby catching another two darts aimed at his backside…before his foot lashed out and smashed the man in the chest. It wasn't going for incapacitation…only getting him to the ground and stunning him. It worked, and he sprawled out and landed on the ground a moment later. Sure enough, he immediately began to rise again, not at all stopped by the pain, but Batman, moving fast as a whip, charged in after him, got on top of him and around him, and quickly put him in a sleeper hold. He had to move fast. The other shooter he had hit was already recovering, and the rest of the men nearby were quickly moving in on the area with freshly-loaded darts. For a few precious seconds, the man seemed to not be capable of being knocked out to the dark knight, kicking and struggling. Yet just as the other men started to emerge through the darkness, the shooter went limp and then still. Batman held for two more seconds to hopefully keep him unconscious, but by then one of the others emerged and aimed his weapon for him. In a flash, Batman released, whipped out his grapple gun, fired it off to the tree tops, and then launched into the sky…darts barely scratching his boots as he went up.

He did a quick assessment of the situation once in the air.

_Four down…but sixteen to go._

At any rate, the men below weren't about to give him another free hit, and immediately whipped their weapons up and started to fire. Unfortunately for them, by the time they had him he had already landed on a tree branch, and quickly leapt from there to the next adjoining one. Contrary to what some media might tell you, navigating the shadows in "trees" wasn't nearly as easy as it seemed. Although at this time of year he didn't have to deal with thousands of leaves shaking and giving him away, just the fact that the slightest misplaced movement would rattle a branch and telegraph where he was made this hard enough as it was. He only went to two separate trees before he quickly went up to a trunk and went flush against it.

Unlike other occasions, there weren't "wild firing" after this. It only made sense. Darts like this weren't bullets that they could be treated like semi-automatics. In fact, shortly after doing this, the sounds of clicking rang through the forest, clearly the act of them all reloading. It would take them a moment, so Batman had to move fast. He only stayed against the tree until he was sure most of those around him were stuck trying to reload, and then he went on the move again. He needed to start making his way over to Layton. He had given her his dart gun so she'd have a chance defending herself. But the fact was until he got over to her she'd be a tempting target as well as a potential hostage, even if they didn't plan on killing or hurting her. With that, he started to move over.

His eyes scanned below as he did, trying to keep tabs on everyone as they fanned out and began to search through the forest for him, each turning their heads to the sky. He had to stay on the move and start countering quickly. On top of all of this, he heard the Orderly machines turn…at least, those still active, and begin to walk back into the forest in lock-step. While it would have been more efficient for them to spread out, Batman knew full well they were relying on their "strength in numbers" to overwhelm him.

Finally, he came to one individual who had "strayed" from the others. He was having some trouble reloading his weapon. The nearest men to him were only about 30 feet away, and it seemed they were being smart enough to stay in small groups so that he couldn't easily ambush them. However, he wasn't "out" yet. Moving quickly and silently to get overhead, managing to advance where they "weren't" looking, he soon found himself over the man. Taking a second to clip his grapple gun to his belt and attach the line, he suddenly sprung out and descended right on top of him. The man barely had time to let out a "huh" before Batman was on him, seizing him, and yanking him back into the canopy. Going back up was important, because he knew he wasn't quite in the best position to not be spotted. Sure enough, someone raised an alarm as they saw him shoot into the canopy and even tried to shoot him with a dart again. More shouts soon followed as he went into the trees, and the men responded by quickly advancing and taking aim into the branches again. However, Batman used the moment to quickly jab the struggling man in the neck with one of his own spare darts that he hadn't given Layton. He was out like a light in moments before he let him fall back to the ground, soon advancing again to avoid further shots. He managed to drop one more, at least…

Unfortunately, as he went on the move again, looking back toward the left through the branches for the clearing he had emerged from, he spotted that the Orderlies were both still in lock step as well as quickly advancing on one spot in particular, the spot where Layton had vanished. The man knew full well that she wasn't as agile or quick enough to move through those areas. No doubt, they were pulling toward her to try and get her now. And those darts would do little against the incoming drones. With that in mind, he soon took off for that location next, moving as fast as he could.

However, in spite of moving fast he didn't "shut his senses off", which was a good thing as more than a few of the men had decided to use the opportunity to take cover again between him and Layton and fire on him as they spotted him coming by once again. It was a lucky thing for him that darts moved slower than bullets and that he wasn't exactly the cleanest target in the world, but if this was the same compound, or worse, that had affected the men in Arkham, he couldn't risk even a brush with a needle against his exposed face. With that in mind, he went for his side and emerged with his line launcher. Normally, he only used it from a stationary perspective or at least would take more time to line up the shot, but not wanting to risk a stray dart hitting him, while still running he brought it up and aimed as best as he could through the canopy, and then fired. The dual lines erupted from the tool, one hitting a trunk behind him and the other hitting an area deeper in the trees before going solid. As the line pulled taut, he quickly got up and let it take him away like a zip-line, leaving the slower men farther behind.

He had to leap off onto a branch and keep advancing before reaching the other end, pausing only long enough to press the recoil button, and then going as he waited for it to collapse and put it away. The canopy was getting too thick to go the whole way. Soon after, he kept running forward along the branches, now out of range, it appeared, and looking for the drones advancing. However, he had a feeling there wouldn't be too many more "errant" shots. He had gone through "bullet storms" before and this was a far cry from it. They had to realize they only had so many darts, and after shooting wildly for a bit, they realized that they were going to have to take more accurate shot.

Just as he thought this, however, he saw Sophia run ahead, nervously looking around and holding his dart gun out, searching for anyone who may try and seize her. At the same time, however, he saw the drones, walking in lock step, come through the trees right behind her. Quickly, he reached for his belt and snapped out two more EMP grenades. Taking careful aim, he leapt from the branch he was on and began to descend, cape splayed out and meaning to throw them as soon as he landed…

Yet even as he came down, a man gave a yell behind him, before he shot out from behind the trees and seized him, tackling him and taking him to the ground. Even Batman wasn't expecting that, and for a moment he actually did "collapse" into the hit and got taken to the forest floor. His EMP grenades dropped from his hands and hit the ground, igniting…but being too useless to do anything. A moment later, he grit his teeth, surged in strength, and then forced himself up just enough to flip his captor off of him and onto his back. Not feeling any pain, it seemed, the man quickly began to rise, but Batman was quicker, snapping to his own feet in a flash. His hand went for his belt, meaning to get another batarang…

"Look out!"

A warning from Sophia alerted him, as he saw her, having noticed him coming out of the canopy and landing right before her as well as the thug's assault, both of which made her snap around and gape, but seemed to forget about her gun. However, her eyes were over his shoulder, and Batman quickly spun around, seeing a thug had emerged from the woods and was aiming a smaller, hand-held dart gun at him. A moment later, his batarang went flying and smacked into his hand, hitting him at the wrist joint to let him lose the gun in spite of feeling no pain. Unfortunately, that gave the other one a chance to come in and slug him across the face. He moved to "roll" with it, but he still took a good amount of it, and pain radiated through his head as he staggered back.

Unfortunately for him, when he managed to steady himself and get into ready position again, he realized he was already in trouble. From his side, a man dove on him in a tackle, managing to grab him while he was stunned and got on his back, wrapping his arms around his neck to try and take him out in a sleeper hold of his own. Batman managed to reach up, bracing himself and inserting his arms, but only barely managed to keep his arteries from getting pinched. However, this allowed the first thug to come in and punch him hard in the stomach, causing him to spasm in pain. Even with his Batsuit, he couldn't take a steady beating, which was what the man immediately started to do. To make matters worse, the thug who lost his gun was going for it to pull up and shoot him. Sophia, in spite of her anxiety, tried to shoot…only to have another man appear and grab her from behind too, making her cry out in alarm. Finally, the Orderlies began to move into the area to surround him, intending to take him out from all sides…

He didn't have time for this…he had to break free…

As the one before him reared back to punch again, Batman removed one of his hands from his neck, allowing the hold to "tighten", but reached down and seized his grapple gun. Raising it, he lifted up, took aim past the man, and fired at the one with the dart gun just as he lifted it up. To his shock, it not only grabbed the gun, but when Batman pressed the "recoil" button a moment later he cried out as ripping it from his hands broke his trigger finger. As for the weapon itself, it snapped back like a slingshot, and Batman moved his head to one side, allowing it to smash into the face of the one holding him from behind. He gave a cry of alarm, for it hit him with sufficient force to smash his nose in spite of feeling no pain, causing him to loosen his grip enough for Batman to quickly slip his arms out. A moment later, he seized his captor more firmly, and then snapped around to flip him away and into the one about to strike him, bowling both men over. Even as they were still colliding and going down, Batman snapped back to Layton, still caught by her own captor and unable to use her gun as a result. He dashed for her and was on her in a moment, shot out his hand to snatch the gun from her, and at the same time snapped out with a fist to smash into her captor's face. Not enough to put him down, but he still cried out and recoiled, letting her go free. In a flash, Batman raised the dart gun up, fired one into him, and then whipped around to fire three more, one for each of the thugs.

He heard the chamber empty after that. Sophia had obviously been shooting a number wildly, but he tossed it back to her none the less as he started to wheel about.

_Four more…plus one…eleven left-_

His thoughts, however, were cut off when one of the Orderlies applied a burst of speed to come forward and punch him in the face. Although the knuckle was padded like a boxing glove, a strong punch was a strong punch, and he grunted a bit as his head snapped back and he staggered away. However, he managed to get enough of his bearings to regain his footing and slip to one side, just barely missing getting seized by one of the robots moving in from behind. If he got grabbed by them now, he didn't think he'd be able to break out. Unfortunately, he got free only to walk into another fist smashing him in the face, this one so strong is made him reel backward. It might have damaged his teeth if it wasn't for the padding.

Sophia struggled to reload the dart gun, but she was having a rather hard time with it, and fumbling so much that she was getting sloppy. Meanwhile, Batman managed to recover just in time to avoid a "double fist" from one of the incoming Orderlies, but on backing up, he nearly took a punch to the back of the head from another. They were closing in around him quickly now, and moving to lock in around him and keep him from escaping until they tired him out into submission. Realizing that they were "narrowing the gap", and that their long reach would keep him from moving far, he tried to go for his belt for another EMP grenade. In response, another machine rushed in and smashed into him with his shoulder, landing hard and sending him nearly staggering into the waiting arms of a different machine.

He realized he couldn't "hold" any longer, and they wouldn't give him a chance to go for the grenade. He had to run for it. Seeing an opening, he shot out and dove for it, managing to shoot by two of the Orderlies as they reached out their hands to grab him…

And immediately saw the five remaining men spring out of the woods, guns already aimed, and opened fire on him.

Quickly, he halted in midstep and brought his cape around in front of him. The five darts impacted a moment later, but this Batsuit had enough "rigidity" to the cape fabric to hold and stop them from breaking through. Layton, on her part, let out a gasp before running into the forest again, still struggling to reload. It got her in the clear, but Batman wasn't so lucky. He may have stopped the darts, but that was all the time that was needed for an Orderly to spin around and seize him.

Moving as fast as he could, Batman managed to get one of his arms free before the arms went about, and immediately started to extend and contract once again. He grit his teeth as he felt his body being compressed. Only this time, without his arm blocking it, he felt his lungs being crushed much faster, the air being forced out of them. If that wasn't enough, another Orderly moved in front of the one holding him, picking him off the ground to keep him from getting a fulcrum, and then began to punch away at his stomach. These ones were much harder and tougher…and designed to knock the wind out of him so that the arms could continue to compress him faster. As for the men, they reloaded their weapons and took aim…but didn't shoot. They'd only do so, it seemed, as soon as they saw him break free or go for another EMP grenade.

With his air cut off and the pain increasing, adding to his already battered state, the dark knight knew he had to think of something fast. With few options available to him, he ended up going for his belt and fumbling around. The darts nearly fired…but relaxed when all he got out was his grapple gun. They seemed to think that it wasn't much of anything. However, as soon as he pulled it out, he pressed a concealed "third switch" on it…causing it to spring out with clamps that attached themselves to his wrist and locked in tight. A moment later, he fired it off into the air. It landed, and immediately it tried to recoil. However, the Orderly dug in and held tight. His body buckled, but stayed firm. He kept being crushed. Gritting his teeth, Batman continued to hold on, pulling for all he was worth. Yet he didn't go anywhere. The Orderly wouldn't let go. The man's face began to turn red as his teeth grit, and the Orderly buckled and shook. Yet still…for all the quivering and fighting, there was no release. The men watching him nearly smiled, meaning to chuckle at his attempts…

When, suddenly, they heard the sound of rotting wood breaking. They blinked in surprise, and turned to look…just in time to see a rather thick dead log branch that Batman had fired his grapple into break free…and come swinging down like a huge pole right for them. They only had time to gasp before all five of them were swept down and aside like bowling pins in an alley being reset.

With his face going from red to purple and the pain growing unbearable, Batman moved quickly. He pressed the button to release his grapple, then bent it down toward his own waist and pulled the claw trigger again…firing it off at his own utility belt. The harpoon ended up tearing into his suit and drawing some blood, but he ignored it and retracted…pulling his own belt off of his waist, yanking it up, and then slamming it down on the arm of the Orderly. As the one in front of him moved to punch again, he managed to reach out, snap an EMP grenade loose, and slam it down on the arm. The end result was a painful blast of static in his face…but it was much worse on the Orderlies who were nearest. It shut down both of them.

Immediately, their brethren came in and, a bit to Batman's surprise, began to "rip" the other machines aside to try and grab him. As for the dark knight himself, he quickly slipped free of the clutches of the current machine, carrying his utility belt with him, dropping to the ground and darting to one side just as one Orderly came around and lashed out for him. They were close, but with only four left, he earned a bit more breathing room. But by now, he was down to only half of his EMP grenades left and the Orderlies seemed intent on him not getting to use the rest of them. They quickly spun around and charged for him. And since he was still in pain and gasping for air, one of his arms almost numb from having been pinned, he had to move back fast.

As he did, however, he heard a voice from nearby, the area where the five men had been bowled over, shouting over the sound of gears and movement.

"Bring it around now! As fast as you can! We need an extraction!"

Batman managed to take this in, enough to realize that this meant there was some sort of vehicle nearby that was going to get them out of here. He had no idea how far, but he didn't want to waste time finding out. He quickly snapped his gun around and fastened it around his waist. However, no sooner had he managed to get it attached and maintain his gait from the machines…when he got a new surprise.

Two of the thugs he had smacked down before suddenly leapt out…and both of them had new weapons. They looked like some sort of batons, but he soon knew they were more than that as he saw sparks flying from the edges of them. They were a prod of sorts that was designed to shock opponents into submission. And soon, both were moving in on Batman and swinging out for him. They alternated as they moved in, both shooting forward, doing wide swipes, and then allowing their companions to come in. The dark knight was soon forced to backpedal more than before, dodging and swinging his body out of the way as he did so. Unlike with other blows, which needed to hit a vital to be bad, they only needed to hit him somewhere. It didn't matter in which body part. What more, the drones were using the moment to move around once again…once more trying to get behind him…

The dark knight didn't have time to go for a gadget on this one. They were swinging for his hands and arms on purpose, trying to keep him off guard and for getting more grenades. And they were also trying to put him back to thicker areas with trees or to get him to stumble over something. Combined with his weakened state, he knew he couldn't keep this up much longer…especially when two of the Orderlies got behind him and managed to close in…

Yet right before they could "join in", a "thwip" went out…and one of the men with an electronic baton spasmed before falling to the ground. The dark knight was just in time to see Layton pop out from behind a tree, nervously holding the reloaded dart gun, and then turn to the other three men, who had been rising as well and getting their own guns out, and firing at them to make them take cover again. This move distracted one of the men with a prod for a precious second…and Batman seized on it, shooting forward, punching him in the throat to make him gag, pain or no pain, and then seizing his arm and wrenching it to get his baton. As one of the drones shot inward, he spun around and shoved it hard into its chest before making the man press the button by shoving his own thumb on his finger, sending potent electricity into the drone. These prods obviously meant business, for the machine soon spasmed, shook, and then quivered before breaking down and collapsing.

By now, Batman began to hear something in the distance…the blades of a helicopter. It seemed that was how they got here, especially as it quickly grew louder. Yet unable to worry about that, he gave a haymaker to the man whose arm he still had to knock him flat, then dashed over him as the remaining three Orderlies shot forward and tried to grab for him. They ended up hitting only each other, but Batman didn't worry so much about them as the fact he still needed to finish off the other opponents. He looked around and to the group that was rising up again.

One of them, unknown to him, was the leader from earlier, and he grit his teeth and aimed his own dart pistol at Batman a moment later, forcing himself to stand up, ignoring the barrage of darts from Layton. Yet he was too slow this time. In a snap, the dark knight flung another batarang at him, striking his weapon just as he was pulling the trigger. He hissed in anger as the shot was deflected to one side, the dart firing and going wild. However, as his own shot fired and his arm went to one side…it was just as a second man rose with his own dart rifle, and who meant to shoot as soon as he popped up. Instead, he got surprised and reared back, firing wildly as well…

"Ah!"

The dark knight, in spite of the tenseness of the situation, whirled around to the sound of that cry, and under the cowl sweat at what he saw.

Layton had the gun in one hand, but was grasping her other arm in pain…the dart protruding from it. It had already injected its contents into her. For a moment, she was merely agonized…but then she began to look increasing anxious as she realized what had just happened.

Batman was about to snap around to respond further…but by now the trees and canopy overhead were beginning to whip violently. He looked up soon after, and was just in time to see a rather large Russian military helicopter, no doubt, based on the age, bought illegally rather than being part of the actual government, swoop down at high speed and began to lower over the clearing. Being one of the "six blade" varieties, the gale that resulted was tremendous, blasting everyone, enemy and ally alike.

It quickly leveled out…and as it did, a minigun mounted on it slowly began to swivel.

The dark knight tensed. Until now, he figured that they wanted them alive. Perhaps they still did and the pilot was panicking. But at any rate, he couldn't afford to stand his ground. From his current angle, the pilots could see him and only him…and it seemed if they couldn't take him alive they were going to risk taking him dead. And whether or not they were planning to fire with Layton around or even their own men, or whether they could even see them, didn't seem to matter at the moment. The barrel was swiveling faster…

In a snap, he tore to one side, right before the barrel reached full speed and began to spew a hail of bullets that ripped up the trees behind him into splinters. The path of gunfire swept after him, but he kept running right for Sophia. She had just managed to pull the needle out, but gaped in shock and terror at the helicopter firing before Batman slammed into her and took her down to the ground, shoving her and himself into a narrow gap on the forest floor where the elevation was a bit lower. The gunfire continued to belch hot lead, sweeping around and cutting up the trees in their wake, sending showers of bark and wood splinters over them.

It was impossible to clearly hear over the sound of the minigun, but someone was shouting. A moment later, the gunfire went off…and he was just in time to hear a voice in Latvian shouting over the loudspeaker.

_"__Don't shoot! You'll hit Miss Labdaris and our men!"_

Even as this was said, however, Batman leaned up slightly. Sophia, on her part, was shaking like a leaf as she nervously looked up a bit, but allowed him to keep her pushed down. Yet that changed soon.

"Get moving." He said quietly to her. "Stay low and near me."

She blinked in astonishment. "Wh…what? We…we can't! We'll be-"

"We don't move now, we won't get another chance." He flatly stated, soon beginning to crawl low. "Go."

The woman, too nervous not to obey, began to do as she was told. She wasn't nearly as quiet or as "low" as Batman could be, but she stayed down enough and managed to go after him. As for the men behind them, they started to pick themselves up, only a fistful left. The Orderlies, on their part, had narrowly missed being ripped up by the bullets, but the three ones still intact soon started to look around. However, the dark knight continued to crawl and brought Layton with him, staying low and moving away rapidly. By the time the men got enough of their bearings to start looking for them, they were well away from their initial area.

The helicopter landed, but kept the blades moving. As Batman and Layton pulled deeper into the forest, the few remaining men kept looking around as the Ordelries started to pick up the unconscious members of the group, one after another, and dragged them to the helicopter. Batman began to recover more, but Layton was soon panting and struggling to keep up her own position. As the last of the downed men were loaded, the echoing voice of the leader sounded again.

"Where are they?"

"This forest goes in all directions!" Another one shouted. "The brush is so thick here they could be anywhere!"

"We have to find them!"

"That's madness! We're down to just four men and three Orderlies! We can't use the helicopter or the gun or we could kill Miss Labdaris! We have to get out of here! He could be anywhere in there!"

"He could interrupt the experiment!"

"He'll ruin it sooner if he captures any of us and makes us talk!"

That was a good point, and normally might make Batman more eager to grab one of them. Yet as Layton continued to pant, he realized he also didn't want to have to "babysit" one of the men for seven days or try to get them back to civilization on foot…not until the Batboat arrived. Besides, these latest groups seemed to have guns and had "eschewed" bringing Batman in alive if necessary. It didn't really matter, though. He already knew where they were going, and it seemed they didn't know the same.

Finally, the leader seemed to cave in. "…Fall back for now. We'll get back in touch with the doctor."

With that said, over the next two minutes, the men loaded onto the helicopter. The Orderlies loaded the last of the unconscious and got on as well. Not long after, the helicopter blades began to turn more rapidly, and the vehicle pulled off and into the air. Batman stayed down although he raised his head as they turned and flew off, and soon the area was quiet again.

As Layton continued to pant, Batman used the opportunity to get up. Soon afterward, he turned to her and reached out to help. She was sweating…a bit more than physical exhaustion. Clearly, whatever she had been shot with was working fast. He wasn't used to viruses having that short of a latency period. Her legs were already wobbling as she got up, and her head starting to loll around.

"I'm infected with whatever they were shooting at us…" She moaned, already wincing a bit as if her own words gave her a slight headache.

Batman didn't answer. He quickly got out the cure he had stored in his utility belt, placed it in a hypoderm, and then injected Layton with it. He wasn't sure if it would do anything, but it was worth a shot. Now they had to wait for it to take effect…assuming it did take effect. He started to lead her out of the forest back toward the clearing.

"How are you feeling?"

"…Aside from suddenly pretty bad…" She muttered in response. "…Like all my strength is being sucked out of me…"

As he led her out, Batman noticed her symptoms…and saw they quickly downturned. They had barely emerged from the forest when Layton was already turning pale. He actually pulled enough at one of his gloves to reach out a hand and feel her head. He was shocked at how hot it was…extremely hot, in fact. Her temperature had shot up so dramatically in a matter of minutes that he began to think it might be bordering on dangerous. All the while she grew to look more and more listless, her body growing weaker with each step. By the time they stepped into the clearing, she stumbled down on one leg, and would have collapsed entirely if Batman hadn't reached out and grabbed her around the middle. Yet as he helped her up…he realized he was practically holding all of her weight.

"I'm going to have to sit you down and try and find the horses." Batman stated as he led her toward the side of the building. "You need to get to a hospital."

"Yeah…yeah…" Sophia dully muttered in response, seeming to already be barely conscious.

It made sense that the virus worked so fast. They couldn't very well have waited for the inmates in Arkham to "come down with something" a couple days later. And they wouldn't have tried packing it in a "hot" situation like this without intending for it to do its work extremely fast. To be honest, it was a bit of a masterwork to Batman. He had seen numerous villains use viruses before, but Dr. Labdaris had to be at the "top of the game". At any rate, the most important thing was that the cure either wasn't working or wasn't working nearly as fast as the virus was spreading. She was looking worse by the second. He began to wonder if this sort of strain would prove fatal to her…

He turned away, intending to move out and try and find the horses, just as he said. However, after taking only a few steps, he paused.

For a short while, he thought over the current situation. He turned and looked back to Sophia, saw her with her head slumped, dripping sweat…

Finally, he turned around and went back to her. As he got back to her, he began to lean down to pick her up entirely off the ground, as at this point it didn't look like she could get up again.

She barely responded until he began to lift her up with both arms. Her eyes cracked then. In spite of her growing-listless state, she managed a moan. "What…what are…"

"I know you'll probably hate this…" He muttered as he got her up. "But some of the cots and beds on the upper floor are in good enough shape to use. You can stay in one while I see if I can't find some water to start cooling your temperature before it gets any higher… My guess is any rubbing alcohol went flat long ago…"

"But…but…no…" She weakly protested. "I'll…I'll be fine…get the horses…"

"You're _not_ fine." Batman answered. "I'm starting to realize by now that if this virus was intended to incapacitate you, it might have needed some 'follow-up' treatment to keep it from being so aggressive…which you didn't receive. Your head is burning up, meaning your temperature is soaring. I've never seen a fever come on so quickly. Until I see you stabilize, I'm staying at your side."

The woman's face tightened, even as it looked like concentrating on the conversation was getting painful for her. "You have to stop my father… If…if he's gone back to doing what he used to do…using these torture devices…he'll…be…"

Sophia trailed off and exhaled, leaning her head back, using Batman's own arm for a prop, and stopping to catch her breath. However, she said no more. Either the growing pain became too much for her, or she simply passed out. As a result…Batman never answered her question. He only moved faster to go back into the asylum. True, it _wasn't_ the best place in the world, but it was better than outdoors. The sun may have been coming up but the sky was starting to rumble. It wouldn't be long before rain began to come down, and he probably needed to find a reasonably clean-looking creek to get some decent water, considering the lack of piping in the place.

Yet as he moved in, he thought of her words. He recalled that she wasn't his objective…the inmates of Arkham were. And while he didn't relish the idea of endangering an innocent's life, there was a good chance, as horrible as this fever and illness now beginning to afflict Layton was, there was the chance that she could "withstand" it. Although it would be a risk, he might be able to leave her be, go find the horses before they got too far…assuming the helicopter hadn't scared them off…bring them back, get her on them, and start making their way back to civilization. It might be a bit risky. He didn't know the scope of how bad this virus was or if it would get much worse, and Layton was already going unconscious. She probably needed more direct attention…but perhaps it could be put off just a bit longer… It would be worth it to stop Labdaris' mad scheme and save eight lives versus one, right?

Yet even as he thought that…other thoughts entered his mind.

Ivy ranting about how little she thought of innocent people…how she thought blades of grass were worth more than their lives. Scarecrow laughing over families stabbing each other to death due to fear toxin. Ghastly looks on the faces of the Joker's victims that he had seen far, _far_ too many times. The fact that he had lost count of how many scars were on Zsasz, and there were always more, and none of them meant a thing to him besides twisted "art"…

He pushed those thoughts away before they could get too bad, and flatly told himself that he couldn't risk abandoning Layton until she stabilized. It was just too much of a threat when he knew nothing about this virus, and if it was experimental then he had to try and pull a "miracle" out to cure her or at least keep her as comfortable as possible until her body fought off the illness. He couldn't let her die, knowing that, no matter how "in trouble" the Arkham inmates are, Labdaris had to be keeping them alive…

Yet at the same time, he was cognizant of the fact that he had a brief thought run through his head before he was able to dismiss it…and it unsettled him…

_After all the lives they've taken…they can continue suffering long enough to save one…_

* * *

_To be continued..._


	8. Balm in Gilead

_Three Days Later_

* * *

The rain had been going almost continuously for a while now. And as the weather changed, it grew cooler out. In spite of the high fever Layton was running, she could only stay exposed for so long before she needed to be covered up. The ruins of the asylum, after all, were far from insulated or climate controlled. Even in the upper offices. During the winter months it would have had to have been nearly uninhabitable even for the doctors.

Hopefully he wouldn't be there _that_ long.

In the three days that had passed, Batman had more than enough time to make one of the more intact rooms upstairs as "comfortable" as possible. There were enough materials and even a few bits of tools left behind to put up older, rotted pieces of wood against some of the holes, keeping out the draft. There were also enough to redirect any holes overhead from getting the interior wet. After that, it was a matter of scrounging around the asylum to see if anything was worth using, since most of their own gear had been lost along with the horses. Luckily, by some stroke of luck, one of the cabinets in the stone portion of the asylum had still had some cleaned bedding inside plastic wrap. It wasn't sealed in it, but rather it seemed the cleaning group left it in that so that it would be clear that these were "sterile" sheets. A good things too, because all other bedding had rotted or mildewed long ago. The sheets here, however, seemed to be built strong on purpose…likely to keep the inmates from tearing them or damaging them. They weren't exactly the most pleasant things in the world, but they were soft enough to provide a mattress on the cot Layton was placed on, and to keep her warm when her temperature swung the opposite direction.

Food was a bit more difficult. The forest had life in it and Batman was versed on how to survive in the wild, including how to hunt and dress kills, but because he couldn't go far from Layton or the facility, he ended up having to settle for smaller game via traps made from forest material and whatever odds and ends were in the facility. It was a bit difficult, but he managed to catch a few small animals. Even that was a bit rough, as he had to abandon Layton for extended periods to go collect them. He could dress them in the lower level of the asylum, but when he went out he didn't even have any gadgets to allow an alarm to be placed near her body. He had to rely on some wire and bits of metal to make "noisemakers" on trip lines stretching in and out of the facility ruins. It was the best he could do, but luckily no one had returned for them yet.

Whatever time he wasn't gathering food or "improving their residence", Batman spent watching Layton. Her condition plateaued, but hadn't improved. Shortly after losing consciousness that first day, she hadn't awakened since. Luckily, there had indeed been a cool and clean creek nearby, which, after making sure to boil and sterilize, and saying a prayer that there was no chemical runoff in it, Batman used the water from both for drinking and to keep her cool when her fever flared. He had some medicine that was a strong fever suppressant in the kit he brought, but he only had a dozen of those and he had spent four already on her, during the parts where her temperature had surged into the deadly range. Now she seemed to alternate between points of high temperatures and a "cooler" fever. They didn't have much in the way of food that he could give her. He managed to build a fire and make a bit of broth from the local wildlife, but other than that he couldn't feed her much. And she barely kept down the broth or the water. He learned that the hard way the first day. Still…he had to try and get _some_ food in her every day…

He had administered about half of the prepared cure to her at this point, but on seeing no result, he didn't bother with the rest. As he feared, either Labdaris had a new strain or the virus had mutated. He personally hoped for the former over the latter. Still, he was rather uneasy about Layton's condition. She was still in the "worst" state. There was little question to him that if he had abandoned her for too long she would have been in real trouble. Her temperature got high enough at points where he was sure brain damage would have occurred. He needed to get her cured.

Not just for her sake…but for finishing this mission.

That led him to his current activity. In truth, he had been trying for a little while now to get his transmitter through, but from the interior of the prison, the natural surroundings seemed to negate his ability to send signals to his relay back in the hotel…which he hoped more and more all the time was escaping detection. The ground level wasn't much better due to the tree cover. He ended up knocking out a window, exiting it, and using it to get on top of the prison. After taking measures to use the metal in the facility for an antenna as well as the length of clearing some branches…which wasn't easy considering his care of Sophia…he got a line enough to start getting a signal out. After that, he immediately contacted home.

It took a few tries, but when the machine crackled and broke, he finally heard the sound of another voice for the first time in days.

_"…__Batman? Are you there?"_

"I read you, Red Robin."

_"__What happened? We haven't heard anything from you for almost a week. I was starting to wonder if I needed to head out there…"_

"We've run into some trouble. I'm sure you read the message about how I paired with Sophia Layton to track down where Klaudius Labdaris may be operating from."

_"__Yeah. I got that."_

"The place we went ended up being abandoned, but not unguarded. Several of Labdaris' men, more likely his 'followers' considering the fact they were viral enhanced, attacked and attempted to incapacitate us with other viral weaponry similar to what was used against the mice in the lab. I got through alright but Layton got infected. However, I have a location on what could be a new facility. I need you to start the reconnaissance work. I'll give you the coordinates and I want you to start searching for any signs of what looks like it could be where Labdaris is located. I can't confirm that these coordinates are valid, but if they are and you can confirm it, I'm going to need one of the nautical vehicles with extra 'space' on it. I sent the Batboat to the coast nearest to me, but there's not nearly enough room for the Arkham escapees and myself on board."

_"__Got it." _A pause. _"So…you want me to start 'bringing down the house' before you get there?"_

"I'd prefer you stay in Gotham City."

_"__Oh, come on." _The young man almost protested. _"You have any idea how dull it's been here lately? It's actually been nice the past couple days you were gone."_

Hearing that made Batman hesitate. He was silent for a moment before asking for elaboration. "What do you mean?"

_"__Things have been real quiet. It's actually looking pretty good at night. More people are headed out for late night activities. Even bringing their kids with them. They say we've gotten a bump in tourism too. The mayor's extending the hours on the city's upcoming arts festival and cutting back on security a little."_

Batman frowned slightly at that. "They're doing all this just because there are eight less criminals in town for the moment?"

_"__I don't think that's it." _Red Robin went on. _"The rumor's starting to go around that those eight didn't just escape and flee town, but that someone killed them and they did it without anyone finding out. The police don't have anything, after all. Those leads you gave them haven't really gotten them anywhere except outside the country, and they can't go there. That's kind of giving everyone the idea that someone's actually taking these guys out…not just busting them. At least, that's what I'm getting from the local pundits and media talking heads whenever I watch the TV or listen to the radio about it… Some of them are saying how Gotham City has hit a 'breaking point' and they won't 'shelter these criminals any longer'."_

The dark knight kept his frown. "It was only due to the actions of one man…hardly a city-wide change in 'philosophy'."

_"__That may be true…but I think the idea is working. They've noted that crime is down. I've kept tabs on the Iceberg Lounge, and no one's making a move. No one's even planning anything other than, you know, basic mob stuff. Things I could stop in my sleep. No major activity from any of the 'big guys'. Normally I'd see someone moving into a 'power vacuum'…but I actually think some of them are actually scared. I mean…anyone who swooped in and took the Joker, the Scarecrow, Two Face, Poison Ivy, Killer Croc, and all the others and whisked them away without anyone knowing? I don't think many people want to be next. Especially after they found out that all of those Arkham employees were in on it. They normally think they're totally safe at the asylum until it's time to bust out…but not anymore."_

Batman paused again on hearing this. He had to admit 'psychology' was the best weapon in situations like this. That's why he took on the moniker of a nightmarish bat, after all. Whatever put into a criminal's mind that "you are not safe", "someone will know", and "someone will avenge"…that put the hardened criminals more in line than anything else. That's exactly what he had gone for when he started his crusade years ago…

Yet as he thought of that, he realized something rather dour. That ideal had largely collapsed. Even the normal mob bosses in town regarded him as more of an 'unfortunate fact of life' than someone to be feared. And in spite of the presence of both him and individuals like Red Robin, Huntress, Nightwing, and every other vigilante who had taken up residence in Gotham City…the criminals had only grown more confident…more sure of themselves…had increases of feelings of "safety". Shutting down one crime ring or section of the mob was no more effective nowadays than anywhere else in the country…in that there were three more, each one without fear and as bold as they would be if there was no Batman at all, ready to move in.

But when the threat of death was introduced… When the criminals knew they wouldn't necessarily "go into time out and then live to kill another day"…

He shook the thought from his mind yet again…but remained disturbed that the thought had intruded into his mind once more. It seemed to be doing so with greater frequency.

"…I've got something else in mind." He answered. "You can fly the current model of the Batplane, right?"

A pause. _"Um…well…"_

"Not exactly the response I was looking for."

_"__Yes! I mean, yes! I passed the simulations above average and everything."_

"…Can you fly it under Russian military radar?"

_"…__Um…well…"_

"Start 'brushing up' on it now, because in a few days I'm going to need an extraction. How much longer until a fly-by mission can be launched from Poland?"

_"__According to the shipping records…it looks like another two or three days."_

"I'm going to schedule one in that time to get you a blood sample from Layton. I'm beginning to wonder if she'll ever recover if she doesn't get a proper vaccine. I'm going to leave it tagged for a fly-by and when it gets it back to Poland, I'll have Fox insure it discretely gets its contents forwarded back to Gotham and the Batcomputer. The programs are automatic, so get it to work synthesizing an antigen. While it's doing that and you're training for a fly-by, I want you to get in contact with Oracle and have her look up everything she can on the wife of Dr. Klaudius Labdaris, no matter how inconsequential or small it seems, and have that information ready. Once the antigen is done, I need you to fly the Batplane to this portion of Latvia and pick up Layton. Just go to the coordinates that you're picking up from this transmitter. Have any information about the first location I told you ready and the transport already on the way, because I'm moving straight to it from here. Are you ready to chart this down?"

Silence was on the other end.

Batman raised an eyebrow. "Red Robin?"

Still silence.

"Red Robin!"

Still nothing.

Batman, frowning a bit, pulled the transmitter away from his head and looked to it, and immediately his heart sank. On bold letters on the LCD screen, it read one simple phrase.

**Relay Lost.**

_Wonderful timing._ He groaned mentally. It seemed his relay transmitter had been discovered…or perhaps had simply shorted out the wiring in the hotel he had plugged it in. He couldn't believe his ill luck. There was no way to track the materials there back to him. He had the foresight to wear a disguise when he checked in, after all. But that didn't change the fact that he was now isolated in the wilderness from any contact.

Pretty much the only chance he had was if Red Robin had been tracking his location prior to termination. He knew the Batcomputer had to be triggered specifically to get a pinpointed location of where the transmission was coming from, and if he hadn't bothered to trace it in that time then the best he would get would be a ten-mile square area. Normally that wouldn't be bad…but he was stuck in the middle of a forest away from human civilization without any means of giving him a signal. Even his Bat-flares were in his more "standard" suit, not the "trimmed-down" one he had brought.

The worst part was he had no idea how much of that last transmission he had heard, so he wasn't even sure there would be a fly-by. Even if there was, without his relay, he couldn't get a signal telling the drone Batwing where to land. Not unless, again, Red Robin just sent a drone to his rough area and he managed to get enough power from his relay alone to signal it. If he could…that would be something. Then the drone's records would relay the coordinates back to the Waynetech facility and to Gotham City and the Batcomputer. But without them…the only way they were getting out of this was under their own power. And Layton still wasn't in any shape to be moved.

He looked around a bit. The rain was still pouring… If it would lessen, he might be able to get Layton on a rigged-up travois and start dragging her back to civilization. That seemed his only option right now…other than praying that her fever broke soon.

As he put the transmitter away and began to head back for the edge to move inside, however…his feelings were unmistakable.

He almost had to remind himself to be "anxious" about how long this was taking.

* * *

Dr. Jonathan Crane was not feeling "himself" at the moment…to put it lightly. At least, that's what he told himself during his rare bouts of cognition. The rest of the time he was in an almost primal state.

One could hardly imagine the figure in the black, dank, cold, stone cell right now was the fearsome "Scarecrow", the literal "Terror" of Gotham City. He definitely wasn't in any form to be terrorizing anyone at the moment. He alternated between lying on the floor, limp as a dead fish, and then going into furious spasms and tics. He couldn't sleep. If he tried, they'd start torturing him again, and then keep him awake blaring insults through loudspeakers into his cell. And if he tried to resist, they'd withhold his medication again.

Crane used to think of fear as his own personal aphrodisiac, and had been a wreck when it turned out Batman was his only source of fear. He had intended to be "bored" during this entire time stuck in this facility. That he was smarter than any of the doctors or psychologists that may or may not have been working there. That he had everything figured out no matter how the techniques. But he had been wrong. This Dr. Labdaris…he saw the world more the way Crane did. He didn't bother "dumbing down" his therapy with things such as being gentle, personable, or morally correct. His "therapy" was the kind that put a Nazi gulag to shame. He wasn't treating Crane like a human being… a fact that Crane had used to his advantage in places like Arkham. He didn't bother getting into discussions. He didn't bother passing him materials he could use to make fear toxin. He didn't even let him say enough to start driving his captors to suicide. He just subjected him to constant dehumanization and physical and mental abuse.

In his moments of "clarity", he saw how effective it was. He was being "broken" of his obsession with fear in the most gruesome and painful way possible. The torture, the time underground, the brainwashing inherit in his therapy, the constant dehumanization, and, most of all, the aversion experiments… His mind had held out for the first week but it wasn't given a moment's peace. Its defenses were downed, and now the therapy was going to work altering his psyche and his mental state. Even when he realized what was going on…it was a vague, disconnected feeling. Like a man who is totally drunk and somewhere in his stupor realizes what is the "sober" thing to do and yet lacks the power. He didn't know what day it was. He didn't know how long he had been down here. Worst of all…he couldn't think of fear. Even if his mind was strong enough to resist conditioning, it wasn't being given a "choice" in the matter. The pain he was given…and the fact that he was always abused and put into "therapy" when he was weak and in pain…it was scrambling his own mind.

He was actually forgetting things about his time in Gotham City…and having the desire not to cause fear being "burned into him" like a cattle is marked as property by a hot iron… And the fact that his obsession and "claim to fame" was being erased from his mind and desires was driving him more mad than ever. He definitely would have gone into hysteria by now…if not for the torture breaking him of that too. His mind was barely connected at this point. He was losing the "connection" with things that used to bring him comfort, pleasure, and his own version of "sanity"…

He wasn't sure how much more he could take. He wasn't even sure if he was past the "point of no return" in more than one way…

Footsteps began to echo down the hall to his cell.

A thin whine escaped from his lips, and he twitched once again. It had to be time. Time for more guards to come and torture him. Or give him more therapy. Or interrupt his sleep with more insults and noises. Or force him to say the affirmation. Or do something to withhold his medication. Or any one of a million other things that would torment him. He went limp a moment later, knowing soon the insults would come…then the abuse…and more pain…pain…pain…

A bit nearer, and he realized he could only make out one set of footsteps. So it was only one individual this time. Small matter. They knew by now that he, along with the rest of the inmates, was so weakened that he couldn't put up any sort of fight. And if they did…they knew they'd either get what Croc and Zasaz got or worse…no medicine. Besides…they could easily call for reinforcements or more of those Orderly machines. And so…he only lay there and waited for the "hammer" to fall.

The normal "opening insults" didn't come. Rather, the individual merely knocked. Crane twitched violently once again before once more going limp. He kept his head down. He didn't want to look up to them. He didn't want to see them. They always just hurt him more if he did…

Even he was a little surprised at the mild, quiet voice that came out.

"…Sir? I mean…" A pause, as if looking something over. "…Mr. Crane? I'm here to make sure you say your daily affirmation and then give you your breakfast and medicine. Please get up. I know it'll be really bad if I don't give your medicine…"

This voice was such a dramatic change…so much softer and more pleasant…not to mention being the first one that hadn't called him "maggot" or "worm" but by a name that, to his surprise, almost felt "foreign" now…that he opened his eyes. Slowly, he turned his head around and looked toward the window on his cell door, which had been drawn aside.

Unlike the normal rough and mean-looking men who normally stood at his cell, ordering him to get up or face punishment, a rather simple and even innocent-looking young man was looking inside. He obviously couldn't see that well in the darkness, and his head went to and fro, trying to find Crane. His face seemed a bit anxious, even nervous and fearful, but also with concern painted over it.

For a moment, an impulse came to Crane to do something with this new one. Seeing he wasn't nearly as "strong" as the others…seeing him look far more innocent…far more susceptible and weak… It reminded him of someone… Yet when he tried to think of what to do here…he couldn't. All he thought of was the first pleasant voice he had heard in an eternity…

It was enough to "straighten out his mind". Enough to make him sit up a bit and look more at the person. He almost spoke out to the individual…but he didn't want to. Speaking out of turn only brought more pain. His body actually cringed a bit at the thought of it. However, his movement allowed the young man to see him, and find where his "head" was in the darkness. On seeing him, he swallowed a bit, and then gave a bit of a wave.

"Oh…didn't see you in there, sir. Let's hurry up and do this. Close your eyes."

Crane didn't know why he said that last part…but found out a moment later when one of the lamps in the cell ignited. He should have expected this. After all, if they were trying to illuminate the mirror in the cell, they always brought on a light. Yet he was so disconnected and dizzy from his days of lying in the cell and abuse that he didn't have any concept of time or continuity anymore. So when the light came on, he immediately shrank and winced at the sudden stabbing of his eyes. It brought out his aches and pains and made him nearly writhe.

"Oh! Sorry!" The young man nervously answered. "I tried to warn you! I know I wasn't supposed to and all, but…I knew that would be blinding…" He shook his head. "Anyway, I'm sorry, but…could you get up and do the affirmation now? They said I'm only supposed to give you two minutes to do it and then I'm supposed to withhold your medication and…"

The young man paused, looking out the cell window and to either side, before he looked back in and whispered. "…And if they walk by and see that you still aren't doing it they may 'tear me away'."

Crane stared a bit longer. After a bit longer, seeing the "innocence" of this one, he decided to try something in spite of the terrible fear he felt.

"Who…"

His voice was croaked, small, and unused to talking. However, it slowly made a sound that was distinctly a word…and his body nearly spasmed. This would be where pain or a blow would come in. Yet nothing came. And the voice was so gentle compared to the others…that he risked finishing.

"…are you?"

Still no attacks or pain. No more punishment. A "ray of light" was in the darkness…a moment where Crane could act like himself.

"Oh…my name's Baxter." The young man responded.

Crane looked at him a moment. "You…aren't like the rest of them…"

That seemed fairly obvious. Sure, he was dressed like them, to be sure. He might have even been 'enhanced' like them. But he was far more mild-mannered. Far more pleasant. He radiated a warmer glow from his persona, one of more innocence and…kindness.

"I just got transferred into the facility." He answered. "Normally I do a lot simpler jobs for Dr. Labdaris. Moving food and supplies around and stuff. But everyone who works for him has some psychology background. And when a bunch of the staff at Sheol came down with a flu outbreak, they had to put a ton of people on leave to make sure it didn't spread in here since it's so isolated and contained. That's when they gave me a call to pick up the shortage. I mean…I don't have as much training as the people here, but I had the most, so I was the choice for a candidate."

He swallowed a bit. "Sir…could you please do the affirmation? I'm getting nervous about what I'll have to do if you don't…"

* * *

Edward Nigma sat for a moment longer, looking at the strange new young man, who seemed to stand out so much from the rest of this facility…and finally compiled. Slowly, he peeled himself off of the ground in spite of the fact it made him sick and wobbly. The fact that he wasn't being forced to do this for once helped. As he got up, the new "orderly", Nathan, let out a sigh of relief before he pressed an external switch to make part of the masonry slowly slide away from the wall nearest the torch, exposing a mirror.

Looking straight into his eyes in the mirror, he went through the same routine. By now, he had grown accustomed to saying it "properly" and not just muttering…as he had been beaten before and told to repeat it three times the last time he tried to just "mutter" through it.

"'I seek will all my heart, with all my soul, with all my mind, and all my strength to be made well. I understand I have done evil in the past and committed great sin, but I vow to live a blameless life forevermore. I deeply regret each and every time I have ever hurt a member of my fellow man willfully and unwillfully through my actions and I repent forevermore of such crimes with deep sorrow. I fully reject my old identity, crimes, and evil and seek an upstanding and upright life. I long to become a productive member of society, and I will commit every last fiber of my being to achieving sanity and normalcy. This I do swear. Now before God Almighty do I swear it upon my blood, flesh, and bone that I will not seek to leave Sheol Asylum until I have purged every last bit of my soul and heart of my former evil and emerge an innocent human being.'"

And, as it had been happening as of late, he felt uncomfortable inside…for he felt a tiny part of him was actually starting to _believe_ all of that. He knew all about the research behind "daily affirmation", but the truth was he never really believed it before now… He had tried "counter-acting" it before…but that was a bad move. If they found him talking to himself anything coherent, they broke in and gave him punishment. Besides, it didn't work as well without a mirror…

"That's great." Nathan stated. He shut the window to the cell and threw the switches both to cover the mirror again and turn off the light, but a moment later a second slot opened under the door. The sounds of movement went out as he arranged the food and medication tray.

"Um…" He said as he did so. "If…if you don't mind me asking…why are you here?"

Nigma paused. He actually had to think about that for a few moments, to his shock. The treatment he was undergoing was so abrupt and severe…a bit to his terror he was beginning to think certain parts of his time in Gotham City had just been things he "imagined" rather than ever experienced… He couldn't even recall how long it had been since the last time he had "therapy" here…

"…I'm here because I was abducted from Arkham Asylum." He finally answered.

The tray came through. Not much at all. It never was. Water and bread with maybe a thin piece of meat. Just enough to keep him going…not enough to really quell any hunger for long. He could tell his arms felt a bit "thinner" even though it had only been…

…To be honest, he didn't know how long it had been.

"Oh, well…I kind of figured _that_." Nathan answered with a shrug. "I meant…you know…um…what got you in here?"

Nigma, who wasn't very fond of standing nowadays, and wanted the food, sank back to the stone ground and began to crawl over to the tray.

"I'm a career criminal, sociopath, and murderer…at least, that's what the doctors tell me." He responded. "I'm also obsessed with riddles." He added afterward, and he didn't mind admitting that part. Unlike the other inmates at Arkham, after all, he freely admitted that obsession. He was smart enough at this point in his life to realize he had a 'compulsion' to keep leaving them at the scene of the crime. Even when he could literally get away with murder…he couldn't stop himself from giving the authorities and the Batman the one clue they needed to secure his downfall. He didn't even see it as a 'game' sometimes…just something he _had_ to do. That he'd go crazy if he didn't…

Although…he did notice that he hadn't asked a single riddle since Nathan had started to talk to him…

"Oh…" The young man slowly answered. "I…I guess I should have assumed that… Dr. Labdaris only brings in people who are really crazy, after all…" He paused. "You…you didn't look that bad when I saw you in the light, though. In fact…um…you kind of looked to be in pretty bad shape. What…what are they doing to you?"

Nigma froze. Involuntarily, he let out a twitch and a quiver. He actually felt himself draw in a bit to himself.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Nathan immediately shouted. He must have been looking in through the slot. "You don't have to tell me about it! I know…this is 'aversion' therapy, isn't it? I know that's what they told me, but…I…I just didn't know it would be so terrible… I'm…I'm sorry…"

Nigma, as he slowly calmed, wanted to say that he didn't really care for this young man's pity. Maybe use the opportunity to finally show his intelligence to someone who would listen. Yet…to his fear…he realized he _wasn't_ feeling intelligent right now. He actually thought this young man might be smarter than he seemed…at least in some ways… The constant abuse was beginning to "internalize" his feelings of inadequacy, and that was devastating his psyche.

But more than that…he realized he kind of enjoyed the "relief" this one brought.

"…So what brings you into this asylum?" Nigma found himself asking, for once not saying anything "smartalek" or disturbing with it. He didn't have the strength.

* * *

"My dad, I guess." Natalie answered, as Quinzell heard her shift a bit, risking sitting down in the hall for a little while. "He was a patient of Dr. Labdaris years ago…"

"Yeah…?" Quinzell weakly answered. She was still having a hard time keeping her "head straight"…yet when she tried to concentrate and be coherent, and when she tried to focus on the young woman who spoke pleasantly to her, she found something odd. Her more "maniacal" and "homicidal" tendencies weren't coming out. Maybe it was because if she even tried to think of Mr. J…she felt nothing but pain…an icy knife in her heart and a sickening feeling in her stomach…as well as the unmistakable sensation that she no longer felt "completely happy" thinking about him. In fact, whenever she tried…she always felt a least a little bit sad…afraid…

Talking to Natalie, on the other hand…made her feel like someone else…someone she had been a long time ago… Who…?

"What was he…in for…?"

She almost thought she could hear Natalie tremble and grimace as well. "He…he was obsessed with child pornography. And eventually…it got too much for him. He kept needing more and more 'highs' and…and eventually he decided to get them himself. It was like an addiction for him that got totally out of control…only there's no 'twelve steps' for that sort of addiction. People don't ever seem to 'get better' from it. So…we got desperate, and that's when we heard about a psychologist who was practicing sort of in an 'underground' type setting… And we tried it out. It took him six months…but…it worked."

"Huh…" The young woman responded. "Six months… How long have I been in here?" She said in a dazed voice.

"…Miss," Natalie went on. "I know this…well…it isn't quite what you have…but that sort of addiction is really bad too. If Dr. Labdaris could break my dad of it, I'm sure he can cure you too. I'll admit this all looks…well…pretty bad…but it's not going to last forever. Then you'll never have to be in here or any other institution ever again."

"Yeah…and neither will Croc or Zsasz…" Quinzell nearly whimpered in response. "Yeah…they're curing me…by messing with my head and beating me until I say I'm all better… Not like I got any choice in the matter…they're making me want it whether I do or I don't…"

A pause from outside.

"But…why _don't_ you want to be better, Ms. Quinzell? Why do you want to hurt people?"

She opened her mouth to reply. She thought of giving one of the Joker's little "treatises" that he had similarly given her years earlier when he was a patient. She thought of saying something more silly and off the wall, like "what other use do you have for people" or "because it's the most fun I've had in years". She even wanted to tap into her more "ditzy" side and just say something more conventional. Or just simply mock Natalie for being a dumb little kid who was devoted to visions of rainbows and unicorns when everything "good" she believed in was a lie… Yet…she couldn't think of any of that. Her whole mentality was fractured and scrambled. Nothing "came easy" now. It was hard to think anything she wasn't "told" to think at this point… And just trying to think of something hurt…

"I…I don't know… Makes me feel alive and closer to…to…" To her amazement, even saying his name out loud would bring her a feeling of pain and fear. "…to him… Like I'm whole…"

"…Is this what you always dreamed of becoming one day, miss?" Natalie went on. "When you were younger…did you like thinking one day you'd be the person you are now? Is that what you wanted to be?" She paused. "…Because if it was, I can't honestly believe that. Some people like saying we're all 'animals', but…I don't think so. I mean…animals aren't even 'bad'. They just go around doing whatever comes natural. They don't get 'scared' or 'angry'…they just do things to live and die. It's people who get thrills out of doing either good or bad. And I know whenever I used to do something 'bad'…I could get a thrill out of it. I guess we all do, you know? It makes you feel more 'powerful' for a moment. You said you felt whole…so you felt powerful too, right?"

Quinzell was having a hard time focusing on these words. There might have been a time where she would have started mocking Natalie as she spoke, imitating her voice childishly, or laughing at everything she was saying. But her mind was in no shape for it. It just sunk in. And yet…she had to admit, these things _did_ make her feel powerful. It got her closer to the Joker, but the big thing was that it was 'giving into the madness'. It was making her feel 'empowered' by no longer letting anyone treat her like she was meek and small and proper. She was free to do whatever she wanted. Yet at the same time…she had to admit, it felt good.

"Yeah…" She answered. "Feels good…being free like that…"

"…But it doesn't last, does it?" Natalie asked after a moment. "It's just like my dad. He had to keep looking for a 'bigger high'. And I know why too. You started feeling things, didn't you? When you were done going on a spree and you came home and you got into bed for the night…you don't go away feeling 'good' after a while. You start wondering about what you did…until you actually feel a little uneasy or guilty…so you try to get rid of that feeling by going up and getting 'another high'…reminding yourself about how much you enjoyed it, right? But you're just empty after that too, aren't you?"

All of the talking was giving Quinzell a headache as she moaned and rolled over, not even going for the food and medicine in spite of her aches.

"You don't know what you're talking about… You're just a kid…"

"Are you sure about that?" Natalie innocently answered. "Can you honestly tell me it always 'feels good'?"

She groaned. "…It's not always 'the best', but so what? Not like I care about any of those people…"

"You did _once_." The young woman maintained. "You said you used to be a psychologist…that you wanted to help people. That was your dream for years. You once had 'empathy' for other people too."

* * *

Harvey Dent hesitated on hearing that. He didn't answer for a while, slowly leaning back and rolling his head skyward.

"…That was a long time ago." He finally answered.

"…I'd say the fact that you answered me like that is _something_." Joseph answered. Dent could almost see him "shrug" in his mind's eye even though he wasn't even looking at the slot anymore.

In spite of his state, weak, battered, and suffering from a lack of coherence, the man sighed. "You remind me of when I was younger…and stupider. You think it really makes a difference? You know I had my face fixed once? The thing that made me a freak in the first place? And you know what I did afterward? I changed it back the way it was. That's all I can 'see' every time I look in the mirror. I'm just making the outside match the inside. This is the kind of thing I am…person, psychopath, thug, gangster…whatever the hell you want to call it. It's not about to change, because people don't change. They are what they are. And whether they either get praised or decapitated for it is a matter of chance."

"But, Mr. Dent…" Joseph protested. "If you really believe people 'are what they are' and don't change…how do you explain why you went from being a district attorney to a criminal?"

Dent was silent at that. Perhaps there was a "good response"…but he couldn't think of it. Not the way he was now. And the longer the young man talked to him the harder a time he had keeping up his "tough guy" persona…

"You say that the reason you did…that…to your face even after it got fixed…was because that's what you 'saw' underneath. That's who you thought you were. But…that doesn't make sense. You've looked yourself in the mirror thousands and thousands of times before you were attacked. You never wanted to burn off half your face before then, did you? And it's because you _didn't_ 'see' the criminal you've become underneath. You saw yourself as a good person…"

The man groaned and rolled on the ground. He still hadn't touched his food.

"That's not how I see myself now. And that's all that matters."

The "orderly" was quiet for a bit. A few moments slowly passed. Dent wondered if he had finally decided to be quiet. If he had, however…he realized that would make him unhappy. He had grown used to talking to him by now, after all…and it was a nice change from the darkness and torture…

"…I believe everyone can change." He finally answered. "Really…you have to if you ever want to help anyone. That's the whole reason we have a world with asylums and not just gas chambers. No one is 'born' evil, either. You weren't a murderer or a criminal growing up, Mr. Dent. None of you were. Would it really be so bad to go back to your old life?"

Now, in spite of his dizzy state and his weakness, the man in the cell managed to clench his teeth and growl as he rolled to face the ceiling.

"Damnit, kid…do you ever shut up?" He hissed…although, secretly, he was glad he had started to talk again, even if only about this. "What life? If I had any second chances I pissed them away years ago. Did you not hear that when I finally got some part of my life back I flushed it away? That I don't _want_ to go back to being a District Attorney? That I'd rather be what I am now? Someone who doesn't have to wait for some broken law system to get something done? Who doesn't have to play these stupid legal games of making friends with all of the white-collar bastards for campaign money or sit around wondering if some mob boss is going to send a hit man in to whack him because he made too much trouble? And why? Because they know that I 'stuck to the law'…while they were outside of it. That's why freaks live without fear and good little boy scouts check under their beds for monsters."

There was another long pause afterward. Although Dent felt somewhat vindicated…he was again scared that he had driven Joseph off. He didn't want to do that now. Talking to him was making him feel alive…like a 'human being' again. But, a bit to his surprise, he didn't need a coin to decide how he wanted to talk to this young man. He also didn't try to decide whether to be 'nice' or 'vicious' to him. He was as he was now…a mixture of both.

Finally, a voice quietly answered. "…So that's why." It spoke, as if in sudden realization, more to itself than anything. "You aren't a 'monster' because you like to hurt people…it's because you're too scared to live any other way."

* * *

Pamela Isley closed her eyes on hearing that, but nearly spat. "What other way _do_ you expect me to live? I'm not even human…"

"I think you're wrong." Catherine maintained. "No matter how much you've changed…you still have a human mind. And I think you have a human heart, too, somewhere in there."

Isley groaned as she leaned back more. "…And I think you're an ignorant bag of flesh like every other human running around out there. I hate you, everyone here, and every animal in the entire world, of which humans are only one. I'd kill you now if I could. Does this sound like someone who has a 'human heart' to you?"

She paused a moment, breathing in and out a few times. She felt dizzy and sick just talking to the young woman. She had to regain her bearings before she could do so to you.

"A heart…such a useless, fleshy organ… Animals are animals, whether human or otherwise. They all fall for my charms…and they all die by my poison. They don't have 'love'. They have chemical attractions and fascinations…telling their pitiful little bloody insides to 'mate'. And then they make a society to help them accomplish that end without killing each other. There's your 'civilized society'…"

There was silence for a time. Isley thought with some satisfaction in her scrambled brain that she had managed to shut the young woman up. And yet…she realized it would be a hollow victory. As much as it annoyed her…she had to admit…this ape, while annoying…was a nice change.

"…I don't want to make you mad," She replied after a while, still in that innocent voice. "But I think you're lying to yourself."

Isley's eye opened again, but she lacked the strength to interceded before Catherine went on.

"You love plants, don't you? You care about them, don't you? Well…plants don't love anyone. Not even you. They're 'plants'. All they care about is growing. Trees don't care if grass beneath them never get sunlight. Thorns don't care if they choke saplings to death trying to grow about them. I think your plants would 'hate' each other as much as humans do if you let them."

The green woman wanted to protest…but she couldn't. Her mind was in too weakened of a shape. She could only "take this in". But even if she didn't…she realized she didn't have a ready answer for that. She knew all about that, of course. Some plants thrived at the expense of others. Some even needed disaster to grow properly. But she had always thought of such things as 'natural'. She never really thought of it in terms of 'plant vs. plant'. But it was true… She knew her babies could feel pain from her connection with them…but no vine or tree had ever 'reached out' to her before the accident that made her a hybrid. That only came later…when her own will and power extended to them to make them respond to her…

Otherwise…they would simply 'sit there' and grow, no matter how much she talked or cared for them.

"Love is a human emotion. The fact that you can love at all means that part of you is human, and you can't be rid of that part of you and become 'plant' unless you stop loving. So even if you want to keep saving plants forever…I think you have to admit that part of you has to be human to let that-"

"I've heard enough from you."

Isley wanted this to sound 'bolder'. She wanted it to be biting, sharp…possibly coupled with a death threat or an attack or at least an insult. It was none of that. It was very quiet. Because in her addled state…she couldn't fight any of that off. The very words Catherine said to her, innocent and calm as they wanted to be, made her uncomfortable…the thought that she would never really be 'one with nature'…but would forever be part human… It only drove her into more anguish.

"…I'm sorry." Catherine quietly said after a while. "You've been tormented a lot…you don't need any more, I guess. I just wanted to let you know that I think there's still hope for you. And…" A pause. "And I really, honestly, truly believe that you'll be able to help plants a lot more if you help people understand them the way you do rather than make them things to hate and destroy."

Isley didn't answer that. She continued to lie there and stare at the ceiling. However, her face showed nothing else. At the moment, her head was even more muddled than before, and coupled with her aches and pains she couldn't do much.

A moment later, however, she was alerted when there was a sound of sliding on the stone. She blinked, and then turned and looked.

Near her "food"…or, at least, nutrients she needed that she would normally get with soil (she'd need to be exposed to bright light to actually make food, and that was always for very brief periods)…a second cup of water had joined the first.

"Um…don't…tell anyone about that." Catherine quietly said. "But…you just look so awful…and you said you had a bad headache…maybe that'll help…and let you know that not all, um, 'fleshbags' are mean."

* * *

The Joker took a moment to look over the little "present"…a bit of "Kool-Aid" powder, or some other drink mix, placed on the tray.

"Er…" Alicia grimaced from her side of the door. "I know it's really not a whole lot…but…that's all I could sneak in… Hopefully it makes things a little more bearable…"

"…Heh, are you kidding?" He managed to weakly answer, but still in his "signature" voice. "Compared to the slop they shell out to us, this is practically fois gras."

Alicia let out a tiny chuckle herself. "Well…I'm glad. But…oh…I've got to go. I need to report back that you said your oath."

"Go ahead and run along then." The Joker answered as he took the packet and tore it open. "By the way…thank you very much for the 'chat', Alicia. I must say, I didn't put much stock into the rather brutal methodology here. I pretty much just complied because I was trying to avoid the pain aspects. But now…with someone like _you_…someone who seems _so_ much more compassionate and understanding…not to mention not such a 'stuffed shirt' like those back at Arkham…you know, it really puts things in 'perspective' you might say. Maybe it's the 24/7 torment and food deprivation talking…but this really is giving a new outlook for me. I don't think I've ever run into someone who really 'connected' to me as much as you have… Who knows? Maybe all of this so-called therapy is wearing down my 'defenses' or what-not…but I've really enjoyed our conversation. You really are a sweet young woman, Alicia. I hope you never become like those _other_ types. And I hope to hear from you again. I certainly get more out of just chatting with you than being threatened with no medication…"

The young woman let out a laugh again. "Oh…heh…I'm no one special… But…thank you. And I hope you stay committed to this. I mean…the sooner you get through this, the sooner you can get out and all, right? And…on that note, I've _really_ got to go. Hang in there!"

Grinning a bit more, the Joker dropped his voice. "Oh yeah!" He said in an imitation of Kool-Aid Man.

The shutter closed to the tune of another giggle, and soon the sound of the woman running off rang out. As she left…the Joker went ahead and drank his sugary drink…with the smile plastered on his face as he leaned back and crossed his legs in the darkness of his cell. After all…he had figured out by now that they couldn't see him when they kept the cell dark. He could do whatever he wanted as far as moving around was concerned. For the time being, however, he was just glad at his good fortune.

No doubt that woman had been sent to him as a test. Perhaps another part of his "therapy". The higher ups expected him to try and kill her at the first opportunity…shortly after using her to secure his escape, perhaps. In other words, she was bait whether she knew it or not. That was exactly why he'd play along for now. Weakened and dizzy as he was, he knew he wasn't nearly in as bad shape as the rest of the Arkham inmates who had been fighting their conditioning tooth and nail. His own mind was quite "secure", at least relatively speaking. And he was more than talented enough to pretend to be otherwise. And he'd continue to do so until the very moment when he needed to "spring"…the ideal moment for his departure.

Then everything Dr. Labdaris "owed" him for what had been going on would be "paid in full"…

* * *

_To be continued..._


	9. Sins of the Mother

"Mmm…"

Batman raised his head slightly from his current activity…attempting to keep his beard down to a minimum using a rough stone progressively "filed" against his face. It wasn't enough to actually keep his face clean, but it was enough to keep the stubble down. He did this in between stirring a pot with fresh broth. By now, he was rather "dirty-looking". It only figured, as many days as he had been in the suit out here. He actually went ahead and took off parts of it now and then…even the cowl. After all, it didn't seem like anyone would notice, and no one did. Yet on hearing a sound of the pattering of the rain that had never stopped for more than twelve hours, he looked over to his "patient".

She still seemed very pale, but she had cooled again over the past two days, and her temperature hadn't picked up again. As the world around them grew cooler, he shifted to covering her with more sheets again, and this time it seemed to have not been necessary to remove them. Where before her fever had kept her delirious, she had been mumbling in her sleep quite a bit more recently. Nothing too coherent…but better than silence. And this morning her temperature was still high but at its most "manageable" level yet. It made Batman realize she was finally "fighting it off".

Yet it became even more clear as she groaned, made a light sound, and then, for the first time in quite a while…cracked open her eyes.

She looked delirious again for a moment, looking around and seeing nothing, but awareness started to flood back to her. She slowly turned her head and gazed over the interior of the ruined asylum office, and looked over to her caretaker. She blinked once…twice…and then closed her eyes again. But she didn't sleep again.

"…Where…?"

"The second floor of the old asylum." The dark knight responded. "The best room I could find to care for you."

The woman let out another noise as her eyes opened. "…Care…for…?" She looked to the ceiling overhead. Heard the slow pattering of the cold rain. She exhaled and saw a slight bit of mist on her breath. Yet she looked down over her body, saw it bundled up with whatever blankets had been intact in the asylum. Realized that she had a pounding headache and a feeling of weakness all over her. Trying to recall how it happened…

Then…the dart.

She tried to lift her arm out to look at it…but she was too weak. She was getting over the unnatural virus, but she wasn't cured yet. Exhaling, she leaned her head back down, closed her eyes, and swallowed. Even doing that made her feel sore.

"How…" Sophia said after a moment. "How long…?"

"You've been unconscious for two weeks."

The woman's eyes opened again, sickness or no sickness, and she looked to Batman in surprise.

The dark knight, in turn, looked back to the pot. "The first three days were the worst. But even after you plateaued, your condition went down rapidly if I tried to move you too much until the first week was up. Nevertheless, I made a travois that I planned to carry you out on, but between your illness, the fact that it wouldn't stop raining long enough for the mud to dry out, the fact that a drone aircraft of mine has been flying by and I've been trying to alert it to get a blood sample of yours to it or at least give it our location, and, lastly, the fact that the helicopter came back looking for us at one point…I couldn't risk moving you. Since you finally started to see an improvement in your condition a week ago…I decided to stick it out."

Layton blinked. "They…they came back…?"

"They didn't find us." Batman answered. "The tracks would have stuck out in the mud, but they weren't about to risk moving through the darkened lower floor to make sure we weren't still here. You've slowly been getting better. Hopefully now your strength will return soon. Once it does, we don't have a choice but to hike on foot back to civilization. The horses are long gone."

The woman was silent. The rain continued to slowly fall on the asylum. It was quiet…calming…and in spite of the gray melancholy on it, it was a bit soothing and relaxing. Layton looked on at Batman a long time, and then finally turned away and, a bit uncomfortably due to weakness, shifted more on her makeshift bed.

"…Even if it's not what I wanted…I owe you my thanks." She said after a while. "If I was that bad…I don't think I would have survived without you caring for me…" She paused, and then gave him a weak smile. "…You're really not a 'bad guy' at all, are you? Not at all like what the press says. You aren't even a 'little' bad…"

Batman didn't look back to her as he stirred the pot.

"…I'm not too sure about that. Like you said when this all started…going after the Arkham inmates would have been saving eight people instead of one."

Sophia paused. She did make a small grimace at that, clearly realizing what he said was the truth. "Yes, but…you _knew_ you would have killed me leaving me out here… I'd have starved to death or dehydrated even if the illness didn't kill me…"

"Then I should have risked moving you."

"_That_ could have killed me too…"

"Again…eight people versus one."

Sophia shook her head. "It's not the same. You don't know what my father is doing to those eight…but you knew what would happen with me. You had control over that. It wasn't your responsibility."

Hearing that, Batman paused in the middle of his stirring. He went as still as a statue. He thought about keeping his mouth shut. Of not actually speaking his mind…the thing he had been left to dwell upon for two long weeks. Sophia blinked slowly, seeing the change. After a time, he did something she hadn't seen him do since they met. He closed his eyes and let out a long, slow sigh. The rain continued to slowly fall.

_Why not?_

"…Funny." He said after a time. "Ironic that you'd say all that."

The woman was puzzled. Batman leaned back and began to slowly speak again.

"…I tell myself the same thing sometimes…but I find myself saying it more and more as the years go on." He answered slowly. "Every time I have one of their unconscious bodies in my hands…throttling them, likely…while I look around and see the bodies they left behind. While I think about everything they did. And then…worst of all…realizing this isn't the first time I've seen it from them. And knowing it won't be the last. Deep down inside…not believing that Arkham is going to either cure them or keep them away from society. And yet…here I am…repeating the same thing over and over again even though I don't really expect society to do any better with them this time than any other. And I realize…"

He was still a moment. The rain continued to pitter and patter. His voice lowered.

"…One more punch in just the right spot. One arm around their necks and a twist. Just letting my grip loosen while they're hanging in the air off the edge of a building. And then…how many lives would I save? How many times did I _not_ do it in the past…and what did I get for it? How many people have had to look across dinner tables or into empty bedrooms or silent houses…because I wasn't willing to take some 'black marks' on my soul?"

Another moment of silence passed. Sophia looked a bit uncomfortable, but she didn't say anything else. As for Batman, he remained still, just hesitating before he spoke again.

"Sometimes I begin to wonder…if I'm going just as 'crazy as them'. Why else do I keep this up? I know that stopping them today won't stop them forever. That it will just keep happening. That more people will suffer and die. I don't believe that any time that I stop one of them that 'this will be it'…that this will be the time when they finally get put into prison for good. I always know they'll escape and start this all again. Yet I keep doing it. Why? Because some part of me _enjoys_ it for some twisted reason? Because I'm the only one who's 'scared' to take a life? Because I'm trying to show this world some sort of 'good example' when all I'm doing is making myself out to look like a fool?

"There was a time when I used fear as my weapon. When I could use the fact that people who committed crimes were afraid of me. But that time has long since come and gone. I can't recall the last time I confronted even a basic thug on the street and they threw down their weapon and gave up. No…they know, underneath the cowl and suit, I'm just a man. They know they have nothing to fear from me. I see it every time I go by Metropolis or anywhere else and try to stop a criminal there. In those towns…they're terrified of me. They think of me as some sort of living ghost. Not Gotham City. They know 'better'. Now I find out that Gotham has finally 'quieted down'…because they think someone has come and killed those eight Arkham inmates. Because the rest of the criminals in that town realize they aren't 'safe'. That they can't get away with this without something preying on 'them'. I was that person once…and now I'm just an unfortunate 'nuisance' to deal with…"

He straightened up a bit, looking out the window.

"I wonder…when I bring those eight back…how many of those criminals will still be scared. How many people will be afraid to go out at night again. How long it will be before they're all fully recovered and back to tearing that city apart… And if all of that happens…am I really a 'hero' at all for bringing them there to terrorize Gotham City again? What 'good' did I do then? Or did I just do 'evil'? At the end of this mission…will anyone in Gotham City be better off? Anyone in the world?"

He paused.

"…Perhaps that's the real reason I decided to stay here. Because I wanted at least _one_ innocent life to be better for me being here. Having time to think…I wonder more and more how many innocent lives will be ruined by what I'm doing…"

He didn't see the face of the woman, but it was anxious now. Uncomfortable. Layton realized just how bad this man was feeling now…how conflicted about all of this. What was running through her head besides that was a mystery, but her face was filled with sympathy, clearly not realizing there was this much going through his own mind…

Batman continued to look out at the falling rain, continuing to patter against the roof, filling a large muddy puddle outside the front of the facility. A cold chill came from the cracks, but he didn't notice it. He just sat and stared.

A quiet voice spoke from behind him.

"…Remember that secret I kept from you?"

Batman turned his head slightly, indicating he had heard, but didn't turn it completely.

A pause. "I think…I trust you enough to tell you now…"

The man turned more fully to her at this. When he did, he saw her head was bowed. She was trembling as if cold again, but she swallowed and put it down. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, clearly steadying herself.

"There was a criminal…similar to the ones from Gotham City…only this one just preyed within Latvia's cities." She slowly stated. "This was after my father had to retire…when he was disgraced…when he tried to live quietly and not have his reputation ruined any further…I was older myself, getting ready to go to school. In spite of everything that happened…everything I remembered from my childhood…I still wanted to go a university in Riga. I just…didn't spend a lot of time with my family anymore… I said very little to them…mostly lost contact…

"At any rate, this was when the papers started printing stories. I still recall the first one…about how a child who had been taken from his bed at night had his body found buried alive in a shallow grave…left to slowly asphyxiate. Then another story came…about one who had been abducted and cut open, left to bleed to death, and then the body left out in the open for the wild animals to eat… Then a third…literally…literally…"

She swallowed, closing her eyes, a violent tremor going through her as tears rolled from her eyes.

"I…I'm sorry…I can't say it…" She slowly stated. "The fourth…was one of three children. The family caught the criminal in the act… A twisted madwoman, they said, completely covered, wearing a mask like a demon. That…that person…held the three children at gunpoint. The papers say…she told them…she'd let one child live…but only if the parents killed the other two right now themselves. They refused…so she killed all three. On the fifth one, she was again caught in the act…and this time she said they had to cut out their eyes and tongues with a razor blade for her to spare the child's life. They did…and then she cut off the hands of the child and gave him to them… Since they couldn't call for help or find anyone….the child bled to death in their arms. The papers…starting calling this thing…Polunocnica…after a demon that terrorized children.

"She was a total monster. The profilers…the psychologists…they couldn't figure her out. They couldn't see why she was the way she was…why she wanted to hurt the innocent just for the sake of doing so. But she began to mock the authorities when she left 'calling cards'. She taunted the relatives of her victims, said if they had 'truly loved their children', they could have protected them from her. Boasted that no one was safe from her. That she knew everyone feared her…but she feared no one.

"Then, one day…she suddenly vanished. There were no stories of an arrest. No police officers having shot anyone. She just…vanished. Everyone thought that she had been accidentally killed committing a lesser crime outside of her identity. Or perhaps God had simply dealt with her by making her die in an accident. I didn't know what to make of it myself…only that everyone was happy that she was gone.

"And then…one night…several months later…I got a call from my father for the first time in years."

If possible, Layton looked paler as she let out a shudder.

"He wanted me to meet him in this really bad part of town… It took him two hours to get me to come. The only reason I did was because he sounded so desperate…so frantic… When I did see him, it was in this ruined apartment building on the outskirts. He looked thin… Like he hadn't eaten or slept in a long time. He told me he had captured 'Polunocnica'. He said he wanted to do it as a way to atone for 'past mistakes'…so he contacted some of his own acquaintances from back when he worked for the Soviets, ones who had worked with the KGB, as well as some of those related to his former patients who hadn't 'turned' on him, and they ended up setting a trap for her. They meant to hand her over to the police after they were done. But…my father had a change of heart. He said he had developed a new 'treatment' method…one that was foolproof, he claimed. It combined the aggressiveness of his old therapy plus methods designed to elicit new 'personality traits' that were 'positive'. Where before he tried to simply to 'punish' the patients into hating their actions, this new method was designed to also 'imprint empathy' upon them. He claimed that it was the 'missing piece' of his treatments and that he could 'grant humanity' with it… And he claimed he had 'cured' Polunocnica.

"I didn't believe him. I was even more horrified than I was of the killer. I thought he had gone back to his old ways. I tried to storm out on him. I said I was going to call the police both on him and the serial killer. But my father grew frantic. He seized me by the arm and got almost violent with me for the first time I could remember. He nearly dragged me kicking and screaming down to the basement where he had set up his latest bout of 'treatments'… He opened the door to the room where the killer was staying, to 'introduce me'.

"The door swung open and I let it because I meant to break for it. I expected to see something vile or twisted or anything that's in the movies about madmen or monsters and…"

Her voice grew quiet as she swallowed.

"Instead…I…saw my mother."

Batman didn't react, but internally his interest had increased. Again, Sophia let out a cold chill. The emotional stress of simply telling the story began to make her weaker, but she kept going.

"She had some disorder that kept her from bringing babies to term after me… She tried having children a few times after…all of them ended in horrible miscarriages. The last one she tried the last month in the asylum itself because of the doctors being on staff…while it was still open. But she got a bad infection as well as a miscarriage during delivery. She lay delirious and sick for days…hearing the screaming and torment at night…and…it broke her mind. After that day…she had gone progressively more insane…had nightmarish desires…and finally she started to act on them. And when she did, she wouldn't stop…she _couldn't_ stop… She _needed_ to do such horrible things…

"When my father found out after capturing her, he couldn't turn her in. To him…this was his punishment for having done so many terrible things himself. To have his own asylum help turn his own wife into that…thing. So…he conducted the therapy one more time. His most "refined" and "novel" therapy yet, with that method incorporated into it. It took him a very long time…but he claimed mother was cured at the end. And to be honest…seeing her like that…seeing her being the same woman I knew…I couldn't honestly believe she had ever been that monster. Even when father…" She swallowed. "…Even when he showed me the footage from some of their 'early' sessions…when she looked almost possessed by a devil…"

"Did you really believe she was cured?" Batman asked, finally breaking the silence.

"…I don't know." Sophia answered. "The last I heard of her, she's still sane, and there have been no reports of her returning to her ghastly habits… But I was willing to believe it. She was my mother...she _is_ my mother. And I knew for all the horrible crimes she committed…all of her sins…that even if she deserved to be punished for this…she was either going to be executed or spend the rest of her life in a horrible asylum. Maybe not one as bad as my father's…but buried underground in a padded cell, never seeing the sun or feeling the rain ever again… And…and in spite of all the horrors she had committed…I couldn't see that 'demon' in her now. The way she sadly looked at me… The way she seemed so small and soft… The way she made me think of the woman I knew growing up and not that monster from the papers… I can't say for sure whether she was or not…but yes, that's what I believed. And I haven't been proven wrong yet.

"My father thought this was a breakthrough…vindication for his life's work. As a result, he did something that he hadn't tried in years…published a paper on the method. But…he got too ambitious. He claimed that his 'case study' had been a well-known psychopath, outlining key items from my mother's profile to show how he had eliminated them from her psyche. Not only was he still ridiculed and unpublished…thinking he was just a quack by now…the police profilers realized he was talking about Polunocnica. If he was genuine, that meant he knew her identity, and there were still many families who wanted justice. They soon knocked on my father's door and demanded he release the identity of my mother. But he wouldn't say a word. He said it was a violation of his privacy and medical 'privilege'…even if he had taken the patient against her will. But the police wouldn't let it slide. My father…had said too much in his first draft. Because he wanted to convince everyone about how his research worked, he mentioned that his 'patient' interacted with him 'on an intimate basis every day'. Even when he said nothing, the police watched him like a hawk, and, as a result, watched my mother too. They started to question her, wanting to know who he had been in contact with. And unlike my father…she had a harder time keeping a secret. Especially when they showed the bodies of the victims to her in an attempt to make her talk…not realizing she was the one who made those victims… It caused my mother to go catatonic at points…or scream hysterically…

"Finally…they arrested my father for obstruction of justice. At that point…my mother became a recluse, and the police began to knock on _my_ door. I missed them the first time, but…that was it. I realized if I didn't get out of the country soon, I'd be hounded until I started exposing everything I knew about the truth. And in spite of the good my father had ended up doing…I didn't want to be reminded about that anymore. I wanted to be free of his specter. So…I left for the USA. And I didn't look back…until now. I have no idea what happened to either of them since then."

She looked again to Batman.

"…Do you see why I had to keep it a secret now? I wouldn't just be dooming my father…who, for all his barbarism, may have finally come up with something…but I'd doom my mother as well."' She paused. "…_Does_ my mother deserve death or being sentenced to a black, forgotten hole for what she's done? She's done horrible things…but was it 'her' doing them?"

The dark knight was quiet for a moment.

"…I'm not your mother's judge or jury. Perhaps she did…perhaps she didn't. I'm not sure any man can say how much someone should get 'off' due to insanity. And even if your mother has lived a totally blameless life ever since your father's treatment, no one can say if she might one day resume the persona of 'Polunocnica' or, even if she doesn't, if it is 'just' that she be a free woman after everything she did. It's a decision I hope you yourself will never have to make. However…I can say I don't blame you for wanting to be 'merciful' in this case."

He hesitated for a moment.

"…Is that why you tried so hard to 'help' the inmates at Arkham? Because you felt that it wouldn't be 'fair' for your mother to go free and not treat them the same?"

Sophia grimaced a bit, bowing her head even more.

"…If I do…does that mean I'm a fraud?" She asked after a moment. "That I really am a fool, just like what they say?"

Batman held for a time. He stared long at Sophia, seeing her trembling and not from weakness, but from everything she had said and what it meant.

He finally turned his head away.

"…No more than a boy who spends his life trying to get revenge for someone close to him who happens to have the title 'hero' applied to him."

Sophia looked up a little at that. But Batman said no more. In fact…in spite of his stony expression…he almost regretted saying _that_ much. He merely looked back outside to the falling rain and was quiet.

"…Try to eat more broth today. You need to regain your strength."

The woman lay silently for a moment, still looking to the dark knight, wondering if he would say anything else. Yet after a while, she exhaled, and merely leaned back and closed her eyes, listening to the rain fall.

* * *

The monitoring room was a bit more "filled" nowadays. In addition to the standard "staff" member within, a man with a hawk-like nose and old, sunken features was watching everything very carefully. Two additional staff members were making almost constant notes. Knowing the Batman might be here any day, it was important to make progress as quickly as possible, yet "errors" could not be tolerated none the less. Not with cases like this. The technique may have been refined, but to have any success at all they had to make sure each thing happened at its proper time, and that the psyche of the patients be evaluated almost continuously to be sure that it was the "right time" for everything. Things seemed to be going well for right now, however, for the most part.

Phase Four had been the big "turning point" in the therapy of the patients. Oh, they were still tortured and mentally conditioned every day. All day, every day they were subjected to constant aversion therapy. It hadn't lessened in the slightest. It had only expanded into larger and more dramatic ways, designed to teach them to hate the things they embraced and to torment them more than ever for it. The penalties had gotten sharper, even. Medicine would be withheld twice as long. Punishments would include more shocks with greater current, or longer sleep deprivation, or being thrown into dark, solitary confinement with ravenous rats instead of insects. Some would leave longer injuries on the individuals…lasting ones that would require medical treatment but they would receive none. As the patients grew paler, thinner, weaker, and more psychologically fragmented with time, all "dehumanizing" behaviors continued. Every attempt to make them think of themselves as dumb, stupid creatures was intensified.

And yet…thanks to the "new" part of their therapy, punishments were down.

Nathan encouraged Nigma after rather "bad" sessions, where he was forced into situations where he admitted he was a stupid fool, that even if he didn't know "all the answers" it didn't invalidate him as a person. Natalie would offer a figurative "shoulder to cry on" to Quinzell and sing to her sometimes when she was hysterically sobbing. Baxter would cheer Crane on when he managed to make it through a session without willfully using fear. Joseph asked questions about legal processes, saying he had a brother going into law, and wanted Dent's "expert opinion" on some of the cases.

However, there was one cell in particular that was being focused on at the moment, of which the hawk-nosed man had his eyes narrowed on.

On a monitor, Pamela Isley, her mind weak enough now to where she was no longer the confident, sly, seductress but was using whatever strength she had left to futilely try and pry herself loose from a gurney and straight jacket she had been put into, was being wheeled out of her cell. A group of orderlies and attendants were monitoring her, all heavily armed and wearing protection against any substance she might produce. Yet even now…her face filled with fear was better than defiance. It showed progress was being made even here…even if it was too late for her.

However, there was one individual staying close to her who was far more anxious, looking almost desperate: Catherine.

The man leaned over and flicked an intercom, bringing on the speaker from that chamber as well as connecting them via a microphone. However, he didn't say anything until a staff member wearing a respirator walked in front of the camera.

"Well?" He called down to the individual via microphone.

_"__Analysis came back from the cloud. Definitely plant-like spores." _The man coldly answered.

It seems the plant-human hybrid was slated as next for execution. In spite of how weak and drained she was, she somehow managed to use what little bit of strength she still had and whatever means were available to her to make a plant-based toxin, and picked the wrong time to use it…namely when Catherine came by to try and give her an extra glass of water since she was drained following her latest bout of therapy, and she happened to have guards with her who noticed that the cloud had nearly been blown in her face.

The old man glared at Isley as he spoke on the intercom.

"Well, weed…" He stated coldly. "I think you just confirmed to everyone that you are 'beyond curing'. I suppose I should have known all along, as you weren't human to begin with. But the fact that you only saw an attendant who was bringing you extra water…which was itself a violation of your therapy to begin with for which she will be _harshly_ disciplined…"

Catherine cringed on hearing that, visibly shuddering. However…it also caused Isley to raise her head a bit in spite of her weakness.

"…as a means to kill to wage your 'crusade' against humanity…proves beyond any doubt you're just a monster to be destroyed. Your death will be by fire…but not the way Waylon Jones died. His incineration was far too 'quick', as fitting a mindless animal. You will be slowly burned to death in a more 'traditional' way, ala a witch being roasted at the stake over logs. Rather fitting…both for your being a plant as well as a demonic witch. You may remove that weed now…and get the others ready to watch. They'll be choking on your own ashes tonight and drinking your remains in their water."

This would normally be where one would expect Isley to get her "last laugh" by cruelly mocking him and the staff members, or making a statement about how her "babies" would eventually kill them all, or maybe even laughing at their entire attempt to "convert her" until now.

Yet instead…in her weakened, dazzled state…she grit her teeth and spoke back with all the strength she could muster. She trembled in fear as she said it…clearly too weakened mentally to have much conviction and was just "saying the words"…

_"…__It wasn't going to kill her…just control her for a bit…"_ She exhaled. _"…And is me burning to death not enough 'sick joy' for you, ape…? You've got to torture a woman for me manipulating her into bringing me more water…? I thought you…were all about protecting 'goodness'…"_

Immediately, those in the room made notes on tablets. As for the old man, he merely spoke again.

"Remove the weed."

The man behind Isley grabbed her gurney, turned, and began to wheel her out. In spite of her statement, Isley clearly looked afraid. Her "bravery" was gone. Even that proclamation she just made sounded disjointed and weak. Yet she didn't get far before Catherine suddenly stepped forward.

_"__Dr. Labdaris! Please! Have pity! It was my fault! I'm the one who committed the violation! It never would have happened if it wasn't for me! Ms. Isley never would have had been able to do this! Please…give her just one more chance!"_

The plant-human hybrid looked up to that again, her fear abating as she stared at the woman. She was calling her by her name, which also helped…

"A price must be paid for disobedience." Labdaris flatly answered.

_"__But she said she wasn't going to kill anyone! Isn't that progress?"_

A long silence lasted. No one moved. Isley looked to her orderly and was silent, wondering what would happen.

"…Were the toxins non-fatal?"

_"__As far as we can tell," _The man in the respirator answered. _"They were. The lab mice we tried them on are just 'in a daze'."_

"Yet there's no guarantee she would have spared anyone once out." The old man answered. "Still…you're right in saying you're to blame for most of this happening, Catherine. For violating the weed's therapy. I suppose I could consent to a very harsh punishment instead…namely taking her to the hot irons and giving her three brands. She may or may not die from the infection or trauma from the severe burns, but it's not a straight 'execution'…"

For a moment, Isley's face flooded with a mix of fear and anger…neither emotion capable of dominating the other due to her mental state.

"_But_…on one condition." He answered. "You must prove you think this ugly weed is 'worth sparing'. You too must be given the same burns as punishment for your own crime. If you refuse…then the witch burns now. Which is it?"

The change on Isley's face was instantaneous. The anger gave way to fear. She didn't have time to "resign" herself to this, however…to know what would be chosen…what was in store for her…

Yet Catherine hesitated only a moment, trembling at the thought, clearly pale, and then swallowed and nodded.

_"…__I agree."_

The shock on Isley's face doubled. Her mouth visibly loosened.

"…You'd truly allow yourself to be scarred forever to protect a maggot who sees you as worth less than grass?"

The orderly hesitated a moment, but then looked to Isley. The plant-human hybrid stared back dumbly, unable to say anything, only looking stunned. Finally, she looked back up to the camera.

_"…__I would. If it spares her life…I'll do it."_

The man snorted, and addressed Isley. "You're hardly worthy of such pity, you disgusting worm. Especially since the life of this woman means nothing to you. Yet I'm sure there will be plenty of other times to give you what you deserve…and plenty of other times you will show Catherine how little you appreciate human mercy and sacrifice. Get the weed out of my sight and take Catherine with you."

Isley was still. She looked to Catherine, but was unable to say anything as she was wheeled away. Swallowing a bit, looking nervous, and bowing her head, the attendant turned and followed her. The rest of the men and machines flanked them and started to walk them out. Yet before she left the camera, Isley visibly closed her eyes and bowed her own head.

Traces of remorse were on her face.

The monitor was turned off…but those in the room quickly began to write down everything they had seen. It seemed there was some hope for the plant-human hybrid, after all. Although she was the one who identified the least with being human…she, unlike the others who had been brought in, had actually shown humanity and compassion at one point. In spite of the blatant gender bias, the doctor believed Isley and Quinzell had the most hope of getting out of this asylum alive. Dent was…marginal. He'd have to have the "whip cracked" on him or he'd simply relapse. Nigma and Crane were more of a mystery.

And then, of course, there was the "special" patient.

"Bring up the footage on the Joker's cell."

One of the men reached over onto a cobbled-together console using a standard keyboard monitor. He typed a few things, and soon some recorded footage from around two hours ago popped up on a window, with a clock running nearby. It showed the inside of the Joker's cell, while he was chained to a wall after having just done some therapy. However, his own attendant, Alicia, was inside and just finishing up with him saying his affirmation.

_"__I'm glad you're so compliant, Mr...um…I'm sorry, what should I call you, sir?"_

_ "'__Handsome' would be nice, my dear."_

Alicia giggled at that. _"You're doing well with the treatment too, from what I hear. Maybe you'll be getting out soon then."_

_ "__Well, one can only hope, of course. But no hurry. After all, I'd like to be certified 100% 'all screws loose tightened' before I head out. After all, as 'unconventional' as all of this therapy is, it does have a certain charm, don't you think? The 'bonfire' and 'yard work' were my two personal favorite events, ha! Surprised I never thought of doing that myself… Or maybe I did. You get to be my age you start losing track of how many things you've tried over the years… I probably should consider retiring before calling up my old victims to see if they remember how I maimed them so I don't get repetitive. Ah…the life of a clown…always needing new material…"_

The attendant looked a bit disturbed. _"Er…I hope you'll excuse me for not feeling too good about all that…"_

_ "__Oh, that's right. Not supposed to be thinking of lovely thoughts of murder and mayhem, am I? I hope this doesn't mean I'm not going to be getting my medicine this evening, does it?"_

Alicia hesitated, but shook her head. _"No…not at all. Not so long as you keep complying. Oh! Darn it, I forgot the pill! That's alright…I'll just run around the corner and get it. Er…just hang tight, I'll be right back."_

The Joker grinned. _"Oh, take your time, dear! I'm not going anywhere!"_

The young woman smiled back and turned. _"Sure! Just one moment…"_

She turned to leave…and suddenly the Joker spoke aloud again.

_"__I mean…heh…what? Do you think that I'm going to try and slip out of these chains and run for it because you keep making those 'accidental slips', like telling me where to find the medication to suppress the virus you had implanted in me or how many levels I am underground or what tunnel to take to get to the exit? Not to mention planning on leaving my cell door partially ajar so that I'll run out and jump you as soon as you're away from the cell? Maybe you were planning on taking your time so I'd have plenty of time to slip out of these chains? Why Alicia…"_

His tone dropped to become rather mirthless.

_"…__I'd almost swear you were trying to set_ _me up to get punished for trying to escape."_

The attendant froze where she stood. Her back was to the camera, so one couldn't see her face…but one could almost swear she was sweating. However, she let out a light-hearted chuckle a moment later.

_"__Sir, why would I do that? If you escaped, I'd probably be the first person you'd go after, and there's no way you can escape anyway. But thanks for pointing out that I've been a bit too 'loose-lipped'… I've got to watch that more often. I don't want to get fired or punished for doing anything that endangers others…or even you for that matter. I mean, I really meant what I said earlier about how you can be such a sweet-"_

_ "__Oh, Alicia…" _He cut off in a rather dark voice. _"Listening to you talk is like watching a bad comedian going on and on telling an old joke and you already know the punch line… However, I compliment you on getting _one_ thing right, my dear. If I _did_ ever think about escaping…you _would_ be the first person I'd make sure to run into..."_

Alicia held a moment longer…but then walked out without a word. She looked in a hurry to be out of the cell. And once she was out, she shut the door behind her and made sure it was secure. As for the Joker, he merely let out a chuckle as the video ended.

The hawk-nosed man frowned. "Has he tried anything since?"

"No doctor." One of the attendants answered.

"That was a threat." Another stated. "A thinly veiled one, but a threat none the less. We should have punished him then and there."

"It wasn't direct…but even if it was, it would be what he wanted, and therefore ineffective for therapy." The old man answered. He raised a hand to his chin and rubbed. "I knew he would be a problem case coming in…but he's almost beyond my scope at this point."

"He's incurable, Dr. Labdaris." The first spoke up. "There's only one fate for the incurable."

"It's not his fate I'm worried about." He answered. "The therapy is going exceptionally well with the others. If one of them is to die, it must be for the proper reason as to maintain their therapy. I'm not about to publicly execute him unless he does so for a clear violation. To do so now would only be exposing phase four of the therapy. The patients are isolated at this point. As far as each of them are concerned, they have only a single friend and 'guardian angel' in this entire facility…in their mental states, possibly the 'entire world'. _His_ state failed to take because he didn't do the correct series of actions to have his mind broken. The therapy is still sound…just not with someone non-compliant like him."

"What do we do?"

The old man crossed his arms and stared for a time.

"…The only thing we can do for now to not jeopardize the treatment. I'm not sure if there's _anything_ we can do to make him break…but we can ensure he doesn't ruin treatment for the others. Leave him be under his normal therapy routine, but monitor him closely. We're too close to success to slip now…"

* * *

_To be continued..._


	10. Grinning Demon

As it turned out, the turning point in the condition of Layton was only a first step toward things going more in Batman's favor. In two days, Layton was strong enough to move around in the room on her own. As a result, Batman, hoping there was still some virus left in her blood, tried again to get it attached to the drones he saw flying by from time to time. Even if the woman was getting better, he would prefer to have a vaccine for the virus that had infected her in the first place before going in. Now that he had the luxury of leaving her alone for a bit longer, he was finally able to find a good spot on top of a dead tree and managed to get it to come down for a fly-by, attaching the sample to the drone and having it take off again.

He didn't bother to wait for Red Robin, however. And a good thing too, because four days later he still hadn't shown up. The very next day he got Layton up and walking around the chamber. Not only due to sickness but also atrophy, she had a bit of a hard time with it. Yet she was a nurse and knew how to deal with patients of her own, and so she allowed herself to be helped and worked as best as she could to get moving and walking. It seemed as if even more luck was on their side, in a form, for an early cold snap turned the rain into light snow. However, it also froze the ground, and by now the room they were staying in was insulated enough that it could be kept warm with the small fires that Batman made. Layton continued to get stronger until she felt ready to try and make the trip back to civilization.

While he didn't doubt it at that point, he feared that the woman couldn't last more than a couple hours at a time, and that the trek they had taken here would end up being far longer. However, as it turned out, such wasn't necessary. He had been waiting with his transmitter ever since 24 hours had passed from the time he passed off the sample to the drone. While he may not have had long-range transmission, he could easily get in touch with the Batplane if it was near. For days, he heard nothing but static and silence, and he grew a bit more tense as he saw the battery icon on it progressively get smaller and smaller…

Finally, on the morning of the seventh day, as both of them had packed up all that they could and decided to make the trek before a warm front turned the thin layer of snow on the ground into an impossible-to-navigate muddy mess once again, a "ping" went off on the radio.

Immediately, Batman took it up and signaled back. "This is Batman. Come in."

A few moments later, a younger voice retorted. _"Finally! You have any idea how hard it was for me to fly under those newer radar stations? I've been circling around for almost 30 hours trying to find an opening! Ugh…I thought I'd have to launch the missiles…"_

Ignoring this, Batman went on. "Do you have our coordinates?"

_"__Yeah, I've got them."_

"We're ready and waiting."

He clicked off the radio. Layton looked up a bit at him.

"Who was that?"

"Red Robin in the Batplane." The dark knight responded. "He'll be by to pick us up soon."

She exhaled in relief, giving a bit of a nervous smile. "That's encouraging… I thought we were going to have to walk back the whole way…"

The two began to make their way downstairs. Sophia was still anxious to move through the lower floor…but seeing as Batman had never feared it to begin with and had come and gone for three weeks, it was nothing to him. At any rate, she had to focus mostly on walking to get through it. While she was getting better after a few days of practice, she was still a little "wobbly" on stairs. Once they finally got to the front, they already saw the Batplane landed there, with the side already opened.

Sophia blinked on seeing it, going a bit open-mouthed. "Wow… That's…amazing…"

"Normally I don't take passengers." The dark knight responded. "But this time I'll make an exception until you're back in Riga."

With Sophia covering her ears over the sounds of the still-running engines, the two made it to the open door. Sophia was helped in first, and then Batman came in afterward. Sure enough, most of the aircraft that Batman used was meant only for him and whoever was with him, which was usually Robin. He had called for the Batplane specifically because it had four seats instead of the usual two, and he soon got Sophia into one while he took another. While she was still buckling up and he was settling in, the doors automatically closed.

Batman immediately looked to the front. In full costume of his own, Red Robin turned and looked back to the two. He looked over Batman a moment, and then was candid.

"…You look like crap. You kind of smell that way too…"

"I'll worry about 'shaving and showering' later." He darkly responded. "I need you to get us up and back to Riga."

"You don't want to go straight to the coordinates?" Red Robin answered as the door shut, and he began the lift-off sequence. "I caught enough of your message to look over those at least. Turns out there _is_ a facility built there. It's on some godforsaken frozen rock out in the ocean, and right now it's covered in snow and rather bad storms, but there's some sort of structure there. Definitely a big one."

"I'd rather you stop by Riga first to park the Batplane and watch Ms. Layton. Make sure no one takes an opportunity to seize her as you get her taken care of."

Layton, who had just finished buckling herself in, turned and looked to Batman at that, a bit surprised. However, he didn't look back to her or move. She stared a moment and nearly protested…but in the end shut her mouth. She turned away and looked down again. It seemed she realized after last time that she was only a liability. Even if she wanted to talk to her father first…her father didn't want to "talk" to her first.

"By now, the Batboat is on the coast. I'll clean up a few 'loose ends' and then head out there and go straight to the facility. They have military helicopters…or at least one. They're probably ready for an assault by land." Batman went on. "On that note, did the transport I ask for make it there?"

Red Robin gave a nod as he swiveled the engines and soon took off, pressing Layton into her seat with a bit of a shock. "It's ready and waiting. All that's left to do is to herd eight of your worst criminals into it. No problem, right?"

"I'm beginning to wonder if I need more room than for eight of them…" Batman answered. "Once Ms. Layton is 'settled', make sure she can get in contact with the police and report what Dr. Labdaris is up to. I'm hoping to already be gone by the time they get clearance to go there and they can just shut down what's left."

"And you leave me with the 'safe job'…" Red Robin sighed. "I'll give you an hour before I head up after you."

"Fair enough. I'm not exactly sure what Labdaris has prepared for me."

Sophia looked a bit nervous. Not just because of what was being talked about, but the fact that she seemed like an "outsider looking in"…a small child in the presence of adults in spite of being older than Red Robin. After a moment, she swallowed, and looked to the dark knight.

"Sir…I mean…Batman…if-"

"What you told me about your father doesn't excuse what he's done or has been doing. He has to answer for his crimes." The man cut off. "But I'll leave the local authorities to make their own conclusions about him and his work. I won't intentionally leave anything regarding your mother. That's all I'll promise you."

Sophia looked to him anxiously. She clenched her hands, and put them on her knees. After a moment, however, she looked away and back into her lap.

"…Thank you." She quietly said.

* * *

Riga may have been the most populous city in Latvia, but Batman and Red Robin hadn't been at this for so long in Gotham City and not know how to move a plane in and land it in such a way to avoid the detection of anyone. It wasn't dark yet, which made things a bit more difficult, but there were areas on the outskirts of town that were safe to touch down. On doing so, Red Robin began to use the computer to tap into the local phone lines so that Sophia could make a call. They'd have to wait until dark before moving her back in the city due to the costume. Batman couldn't help but grimace a bit at how the younger vigilante was yawning quite a bit. If he had really been at this for 30 hours and was now getting another "safe" job, there was a chance he might nod off. Luckily, Batman only half-expected anyone to be looking for Sophia. They had been "off the radar" for three weeks, after all. Once they were down, he broke off and made his way back to the hotel he had checked into at the state of this.

Luckily for him, the room he had stayed in was shut up, but not raided. The lock was easy for him to pick. Once inside, he saw that someone who wasn't him had been snooping around, but fortunately he had most of the "incriminating" items of himself when he left, leaving only a few raided cases and clothes with phony information. As for the relay itself, it had been tampered with, but it also had its "self-destruct" triggered, having destroyed the key functional components and codes that would enable someone to reverse engineer the item. Now that he was here, he used the opportunity to "finish the job" and disassemble the machine into scrap, and then showered, shaved, and "freshened up" the Batsuit. It seemed like a bit of a delay, but he didn't want anything distracting him from what was coming. Once he looked more "himself", he headed back out, hitched a ride to the airport, went to the rental lot, hotwired one of the cars, and then took off for the coast. That was a bit against his nature as well. Normally, he'd prefer to either have flown there or moved in less-conspicuous ways, preferably one that didn't involve a "borrowing". Unfortunately he had no choice. He had ordered the Batboat remotely to dock a ways from the city proper to ensure it not being found.

It took a bit longer to drive there, but it was dark at that point. He went ahead and parked the car alongside the road, where it would be easy for the authorities to find, assuming they weren't already looking for it. It was in a more wooded, secluded area of rough terrain near a rocky patch of coast. He went straight into the woods and began to navigate through the darkness for ocean-side. Rather easy to find considering the normal sounds of the water. The wind was cold but the sky had finally turned clear, giving him a little assistance in the form of moonlight as he went out to the shore. Finally, once there, he found himself on a rocky cliff overlooking the water. He looked down and, after "pinging" the craft, managed to find the waiting Batboat nestled inside a narrow rocky crag.

He opened the top by remote and leapt inside from above. Once in, he went about upgrading his Batsuit to his "full model", which wasn't exactly easy when he was forced to squeeze inside the cockpit of one of his own vehicles. Still, he had experience with this sort of thing and was soon fully changed and upgraded. With that complete, he at last fastened himself in, brought all of the tactical software online, plugged in the pre-loaded coordinates, and then started it up. The boat backed out, swiveled around, and took off straight for the island facility.

As fast as the Batboat was, it was going to be several hours before he made landfall. Based on the calculations he made, he reasoned it would be close to dawn by the time he arrived at the island, but he hoped that he would still have a little cover of darkness. Aside from that, he was soon left alone with the silence and his thoughts yet again as he sped northward over the rolling waves.

He was beginning to slip more into his "traditional" mode now. After all, this would be it. After weeks of searching and delays, he finally had tracked down Dr. Labdaris to his facility. Now he'd finally see what was the end result of his delays, intentional or unintentional…and he would have to "face the music" about what was going to happen as a result of this. At this point, he was no longer actively trying to "not think about" what was coming. Barring any major surprises, he'd soon storm Sheol, bring out the eight inmates, and send them back to Arkham Asylum in Gotham City…and, if history was any indication, everything would start all over again. The whole "song and dance" of them running amok and him stopping them and them lying low for a few months before they repeated the cycle. He could almost hear the Joker laughing right now…imagining what he'd say when they got there…accusing him of "not being able to live without hearing his favorite joke"…

He wasn't sure he wouldn't believe him this time.

After a while, he heard a beep from his console. The island was still hours away, but it wasn't an alert. It was an incoming transmission. He reached over and switched the button.

"Batman here."

_"__You're something else, Bruce. You know that?" _A woman's voice came back.

"Hello Oracle." He simply answered.

_"'__Hello Oracle'? Ugh…you're just as bad as Tim. He calls me up saying he got part of a message telling me to look up everything on the wife of Dr. Klaudius Labdaris and that you got cut off toward the end. And I ask him: 'Aren't you a bit worried about him being cut off?' And he just says something like: 'I'm sure he's fine; how many times has he been in situations like this before?' And now _three weeks_ later he finally calls up saying he got an answer while I've been worried sick…"_

The dark knight fought the urge to smile. "In this case, he ended up being right. Though yes…after three weeks I would have gotten a bit worried myself."

_"…__I guess that will have to do for an apology for now. Anyway, I'm forwarding that information to you that you requested. I did keep _somewhat_ busy over the past couple weeks."_

The on-board computer began to beep, indicating an incoming data transmission.

"Thank you." Batman answered.

_"__Anything else?"_

For a moment, the dark knight nearly said 'nothing' and left it at that. However…he had a lot on his mind for this one. Both what he had thought about and what Sophia had shared…or even the idea behind what Labdaris was doing. He continued to stare forward at the ocean waves, but spoke much more quietly.

"Barbara…do you ever hate me?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end. _"…Bruce, what ever gave you that idea? How could I-"_

"Right after the first time I stopped him…I had him by the neck…hovering over a river of his own poison." Batman cut off. "And I thought of dropping him. I couldn't have held him like that for more than eight seconds…but it felt like a year. It would have killed him. He hadn't been exposed enough to his own toxin yet to build up an immunity. He was like nothing I ever thought existed. I used to think the man who shot my mother and father was a monster. But he was just a thug. A coward. Scum who got a thrill out of it. He wasn't _anything_ like the Joker. Seeing him having destroyed one life after another…and all he could do was laugh about it…get more sick joy out of every person who had that twisted grin on their faces… Even then he wasn't scared. He was happy about the whole thing. I think he knew right then and there if I dropped him that it wouldn't bring back even one person he murdered. And he knew that _I _knew it too…that in the end I'd have my 'revenge' but it wouldn't make a difference. And after that day…he's rubbed it in ever since."

Silence on the other end.

"…Do you ever wish I would have, Barbara? If I had hundreds of people would still be alive. You'd still be Batgirl. You'd still be walking. And I have to ask…do you ever wish he was dead? Do you ever get angry whenever you hear that I just put him back in another 'revolving door cell'?"

Barbara didn't answer right away. There was a few moments of silence. Finally…an exhale.

_"__You know, Bruce…there's still times I wake up in the morning and think I'm going to lazily roll out of bed, sticking my feet out and pry the rest of myself out of it from there…and then I can't feel my legs or move them. And I think about how I'm never going to get out of bed again without using my arms, or go for a run, or play a game of baseball, or put on a cowl and cape and run around Gotham City punching thugs in the face. And sometimes…when I do finally get up and look in the mirror…I see how much "equipment" is in my room, how many modifications I had to make just to reliably feed myself…and I realize that no matter how infamous I become or how intelligent I am…there isn't a thug in the world who's ever going to be scared or intimidated by a 'cripple' with a catheter shoved up you-know-where. And when that happens…I feel like only 'half a person', and I cry. And I wonder…why is it people like me get bullets in the spine, people like Jason get themselves blown half to Hell, even people like Harvey Dent was once who get half their faces burned off…and then there's people like_ him_ who__ just 'keep thriving'? After everything they've been through…people like him don't even have scars. Make one 'miracle recovery' after another. He didn't even need a replacement knee for when dad shot him. They always get free to do whatever they want. I wonder…is there some sick bastard somewhere making us all go through this again and again and making sure we're the only ones who ever 'suffer a loss'? Why do they get everything and we get the pain? Why does karma 'never apply'? Why am I going to spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair and why is he going to spend the rest of his life destroying innocent people?_

_ "__But that's all I let myself feel. Because I look past that and see what I still have. I could have remained Batgirl. I could have gone around like you and Tim and beat heads in and left criminals hanging like party favors for years to come. But when I think about it…when I really think about it…I realize all I ever would have been would have been another 'costumed vigilante'. I never would have realized my _real_ potential…and being Oracle _is _my real potential. I always thought I would never be anything more than 'muscle' as Batgirl…that it was my ability to move around and beat up thugs that was my 'pride and joy'. But the number of lives I saved as Oracle…though using my brain…from doing things that no one else could, even in the Justice League…that makes me realize who I really am. And if the Joker hadn't tried to kill me…I never would have become that. I guess, in a way…that moment was kind of when 'my parents got killed'."_

Batman was silent.

_"…__I don't mean to minimize your tragedy any more than mine, Bruce. I'm saying if neither of us had suffered that, a lot of people would have died. A lot of really bad guys would have gotten away with a lot of terrible things. That doesn't 'excuse' what happened…but it should be enough to at least help us realize that we aren't going around 'missing' something. We're going around as 'more' than we would have been, and making more of a difference than we could have. _

_ "__And as for the Joker…I realized a long time ago that the only power he has over me…the only power he has over anyone…is when I let him 'turn me into one of his sick jokes'. And I _won't_ do that. I'm wiser and stronger for what happened to me. He, on the other hand…he's still the same sad clown trying desperately to make people laugh at the same old joke, which they never will. I've grown as a person. And I proved him wrong, just like my dad did. He thought anyone could 'snap' just like him if they were pushed hard enough…but in the end all he did was make himself out to be the weaker person I always knew he was. When life got 'too hard' for him…he broke. And my own biggest 'revenge' to him is honestly not caring at all whether he dies for what he did to me…because he knows he can't 'touch me'. That he looks at me expecting to see a woman whose whole life is based around one bullet he fired…and all he sees is a woman who thinks this 'clown' isn't even worth her time."_

The dark knight said nothing in response. He took this all in, pondering over it for a bit longer. He wasn't sure whether or not he agreed with Barbara completely after all this time. But he realized if anyone was qualified to 'know how to think' in times like this, it was her.

To be honest…he wished he could have heard all of that and then left it at that. That he could have taken more solace in Barbara's words. However…it was a bit too late for that. Not after everything that had happened. All it did was put him into deeper thought again.

"…Thank you for sharing that, Barbara." He stated after a time.

_"…__What's on your mind, Bruce?" _She asked a moment later, her tone a bit harder…and more uneasy…than before. _"I can guess based on what you asked me, but…"_

"Gotham City hasn't really needed the 'Batman' over the past three weeks, has it?"

Silence on the other end. _"…Only because the worst of the worst are gone, not because you're not here."_

"What will happen to the city if I bring them back?"

Another pause of silence.

_ "…__Why _didn't_ you drop the Joker?"_

Batman was silent momentarily.

"…I don't know if mom and dad would necessarily 'approve' of what I've become in spite of all I've done…but I _knew_ they wouldn't have done it. Not even to someone like him. They believed in people…in humanity. They thought it was something worth fighting for even if it was only in a minority, and they believed that it was something that should extend to everyone."

_"__Bruce." _Oracle spoke, rather firmly herself. _"…I won't tell you what to do. But I think that's a noble vision and it _is_ one worth fighting for. Don't feel you have to destroy it for the sake of those eight. People like Labdaris come and go. Sometimes they do bad things and sometimes the bad they do ends up making some good in this world. It's always people like your parents…like you…who make this world worth living in no matter how bad the inmates at Arkham try to ruin it."_

The radio turned off. Barbara _did_ like to get the last word in every now and then, after all…and against someone with a mind as sharp as the Batman's, you 'took what you could get'. At any rate, he was content to let her have it.

He had something new to think about for the next few hours.

* * *

The Joker was secure, once again strapped to a gurney in a straight jacket. The restraints weren't nearly as potent this time. Far more basic, with just the straight jacket and basic cuffs on his legs. The man himself regarded the entire incident with some amusement. He merely grinned at the guards responsible, however. Even now, he wasn't doing anything to prompt them to strike him, no matter how dirty the looks they gave him were. Eventually, however, they finished strapping him in and stood back a bit. They all eyed him afterward, saying nothing…not even the normal insults. The inside of his cell, lit up for a change, was quiet.

Finally, he risked talking.

"You know, I _do_ believe I'm due for my 'daily affirmation' right about now, and I'd like to get that out of the way so I don't withhold my pills." He stated after a moment. "Always like to be 'punctual' about those things." He twisted his voice to a much lighter 'parody'. "Because I'm good enough…I'm smart enough…and gosh darn it! People like me!" He ended with a chuckle.

In response, the door clicked. A moment later, the cell opened up, and in walked a familiar face.

"Ah! Good morning!" He called to Labdaris. "And here I thought I was going to have to 'play doctor' some more with Alicia. She's a fine actor, you know. Where did she study? I should watch her perform someday."

Labdaris look remained stony. His eyes burned from behind his hawk-like nose. He stepped forward a short distance, but then halted. After that, he gestured to the guards. Without a word, they turned and walked to the exit door. The Joker looked faintly bemused as he saw them both exit out through the door and shut it behind them, leaving him alone with Labdaris.

He grinned. "Hoping to have been the one to 'crack me' personally, doc? Or is this where you declare me 'incurable' and put a bullet in my skull?"

Labdaris stared back silently for a moment, but then exhaled.

"The opposite, actually."

He reached into his pocket, and emerged with a small container. It looked like it was for pills. The Joker raised his head a bit more from his position, looking it over, as the doctor opened it up and produced a rather large pill with a new color.

"You were right to be suspicious about where Alicia was telling you to go. All of the treatments that have a sufficient dosage to kill the virus inside of you I keep on my own person."

"Oh really?" The Joker answered. "And am I to assume…gasp…that you are actually going to give it to me? Oh my…what manner of strange, new therapy is this, doctor? Or is this to give me a 'running start'?"

"Your therapy is finished." The old man snorted. "You're getting out of here. I'm shipping you back to Gotham City and Arkham Asylum."

"Oh, dost mine ears deceive me?" He asked curiously. "It sounds like you're actually letting me go. What? Does that mean you believe me when I say how much I feel like changing? Because I could have sworn when I came in you mentioned something about making sure society was safe from me one way or another… And while I'm flattered that you feel I'm so vastly improved…"

"You can stop pretending any time now." Labdaris snorted. "You never fooled me once, just as, apparently, I never had you fooled once. To further elaborate…yes, normally this would be the point where I would make an example out of you. Yet unlike you…I only kill for a reason. Jones was an animal. Treating him would have been pointless the way his brain was degenerating. I did him a favor as much as society. Zsasz came too close to actually killing one of the staff members. You, on the other hand, have been compliant. Even if it was only an act, I'm not about to go 'crazy' enough to start punishing my patients for behaving. No doubt that's what you wanted…if not to you but to your companions, ruining the whole purpose of the therapy in the first place. And as much as I would love nothing better to do but throw you into an incinerator or a wood chipper or something a little more _painful_, it appears your ability to be 'karma-proof' has somehow come into play again.

"You see…I'm close with the remaining five Arkham inmates. _Very_ close. At the bare minimum, I believe Dr. Quinzell's former personality is beginning to emerge and that I've nearly 'broken her of you'. Yet I'm seeing glimmers of hope with the others. Enough to where I'm not about to let anything ruin that hope that I can control. And that means being rid of you. I can't kill you in such a way to be 'effective' at this point in therapy. And I can't risk you staying here jeopardizing the therapy of the others. I _could_ simply, as you put it, just 'put a bullet in your skull'…but unlike you, there's always a purpose to those _I _kill."

He crossed his arms and sighed. "…You have no idea how hard it is for me to 'admit failure'. A man who's lived a life like mine and devoted it to finding every way possible to 'break' the insanity of even the worst offenders. To let you go now is, frankly, me 'throwing in the towel'. I've been stewing about it for quite some time…telling myself to hold off…to keep trying…to risk something new… And if it were only you here, I might indeed. But like I said, it's too much of a risk. And I'm enough of an 'adult' to not 'throw a fit and break something he can't figure out'. So go on. Have a good laugh and 'relish your victory'. I'll just be glad to have your sickening face out of my sight."

"Aw…isn't that a shame, doc. I mean…I've grown so used to _you_." The Joker answered with a smile. "In fact…"

He held a moment longer, continuing to smile at the doctor…

Until he suddenly uncrossed his arms, revealing the straight jacket sleeves weren't holding him back anymore…and making Labdaris' anger evaporate, turning into shock.

"I don't feel like leaving at all just yet."

In a moment, the "clown" was on him. He didn't have time to shout or struggle before the Joker seized him by the neck. After all, he had done this so many times it was like clockwork. He may not have had his feet unshackled. Slipping out of handcuffs was one thing…slipping out of those was another…but Labdaris was more than close enough for him to grab and mute before he could say anything. At once, he went down to the floor, letting the gurney roll out behind him and take his legs with it…and went down with Labdaris' head between him and his body, smashing it against the floor enough to knock a tooth out of his skull and dent in another, not to mention gave him a rather solid blow to the head. He went limp immediately…not dead or unconscious, but no doubt dazzled and in a great deal of pain. And although the Joker had gone down on top of him, he used the moment to reach over his body, tear away at his coat, and then for his waist. His hands went over him and toward his pockets, but soon found what he was looking for. He grinned as he emerged with a set of keys.

"Heh…as many times as I've done this sort of thing, you'd think I'm practically Houdini. After all, one does pick up on little things like this… The shape of the key that goes into handcuffs…so iconic I'd know it at first touch." He said as he leaned back, pulling his legs up to bring the gurney closer and starting to undo it. "Or using the age of this place to pry off a sliver of stone from the masonry while I was lying down on it, so that even night vision cameras couldn't spot what I was doing? Using it to make a crude knife just sharp enough to cut through the sleeve of a strait jacket? Oh, I'm a seasoned pro at things like _that_…"

In moments, the cuffs were coming off, and, moving forward, the Joker pinned him down with one knee while getting his restraints off.

"How about 'skimming' a bit of the drug off of each one of those little capsules you give me a few times a day and stockpiling it? Doing so until I have about two more full 'pills' worth? Then taking them both at once with a third pill? Why…seeing as I've been so compliant and haven't had you wearing out my strength, three of those pills at a time was enough to get rid of all my weakness and put me back in 'fighting form', ha! Of course…I'm sure it didn't get rid of it…that's what your drug was for. Luckily I realized you were going to make a move on me after you cut off my little 'sessions' with Alicia…"

Once that was done, he got off the doctor only to seize him and flip him over violently. Immediately, he went for his hand still holding the pill container, and he seized it from him. Breaking it open in moment, he got the rather large pill out of it.

"Heh, is this for us or for horses?" He asked. "Ah well." Knocking it into his mouth, he put it down in one swallow. After doing so, he seized Labdaris again, from whom all traces of grim attitude and hardness had vanished, giving way to terror…a look the Joker _loved_ seeing after so long…before he put an arm around his neck rather tightly, nearing breaking it, and dragged him up and to his feet.

"Come on, doc!" He shouted out loud. "Give a nice little shout-out to the boys out there so they know you're about to die!"

Whether because he was told or simply out of fear, the doctor did make a strained, weak cry. It wasn't a direct "help" or a noise, but rather a mixture of both…and still somewhat subdued, as if the now panic-stricken man didn't know what to do or what sound to make. His hands went up and grasped the arm of the Joker, but even if he wasn't dazzled from being smashed into the ground, there was no way he could remove the arm. He held tight.

A moment later, the door to the cell opened, and the two guards burst back in. Perhaps they had heard him before, or had brought in more "backup" to conduct him to whatever transport they had in mind, but there were two more human guards and two of those machines as well. Yet only two entered, and both had more of those electric prods with them, already sparking energy as they rushed in. Yet as they came, the Joker immediately reacted by standing up straight and holding Labdaris in front of him.

"Oh, ah-ah-ah!" He sounded. "Wouldn't really want me snapping the good doc's neck, would you?"

The guards froze at seeing that. The Joker had to suppress the urge to grin more when he saw fear come over their expressions after having to deal with those "humorless" faces for so long. Both of them tightened up, not knowing what to do. The doctor, on his part, merely trembled in the Joker's grip, not moving at all. He could feel him progressively panting more and shaking. After a moment, the Joker held out his free hand.

"Let's start things off simple, alright? Kindly have one of you hand over one of those weapons. The other one, turn yours off, set it on the floor, and give it a nice roll over to behind me."

"Do what he says! Please!" Labdaris managed to choke out, his tone panicked.

This actually made the Joker raise an eyebrow. "Wow, doc. And here I expected a bit more bravery from someone with such lofty ideals. Still, you make a good point." He looked back to the guards. "I _really_ don't think you all want to see if you're fast enough to knock me out before I kill the good doctor. You also don't want to see how easy it would be for me to kill him, kill one of you, and then have the survivor become my new 'bosom buddy' until I'm flying out of here…at which point I'll probably see how well _you_ fly all on your own."

The two guards hesitated a bit longer. However, the Joker was pleased to see anxiety painting their normally stony expressions as well. Finally, one deactivated his prod, switched it around, and held out the handle to the Joker. The other soon did the same, put his on the ground, and rolled it over to the opposite side of the cell.

"Closer, please."

The guard paused a moment, and then did so.

"Still too cold." The Joker grinned. "Closer."

The man hesitated. He knew the Joker had to know any closer and he'd be near enough to try and seize him, Labdaris or no Labdaris. However…he did as he was told. He took another step closer, putting him well in range. At that point, the Joker took the prod from him.

"Thank you kindly." He answered…before turning it on and driving it forward through one of the man's eye sockets and into his skull. The other guard and Labdaris reacted in horror as soon the constant electric charge was being shoved through him and into his brain, and he spasmed on the end. He continued to electrify him as he cackled.

"Haven't worked with joy buzzers for so many years and not known a thing or two about the best way to turn a man's brain into a fried egg! Ha! Anyway, I'm so sorry, doctor. It's true…it would be nice to get out of the hell hole intact and go back to Gotham City. However, it would be _very_ nice to feed you to that wood chipper, that incinerator, or whatever other death machines you had built for whoever misbehaved next first. And it would be nicer than _that_ if I could also set off an explosion to seal you and your little cultist-slash-orderlies down here until you asphyxiate or get eaten by your own parasites.

"Yet the best…the very best…thing of all…would be to first steal that lovely virus you infected me and the others with first. And why not…your robot technology too. Can you begin to imagine how great those would be at parties? Think of the riot I could have in Gotham with something like that! I'll admit, it's a real pity I never studied Biology half as much as Chemistry, but there's no better time to start! Ha-ha!"

By now, the man's head was smoldering. The guard showed visible fear, unease, and horror…but Labdaris was another matter entirely. He was practically whimpering as the Joker shook the dead guard off the end, and then cracked his neck. A bit stiff from being so "out of practice", it seemed. He then looked to the first guard.

"No…if you'll be so kind as to escort me to where your keep your viral lab, I won't see if I can improve my new variation on electro-shock therapy by testing it on the good doctor."

"Take him! Take him!" Labdaris shouted, sweating bullets…practically crying.

"Don't try and plot any 'ambushes' either, 'Wild Bill'." His voice turned into a cowboy accent. "Ah'm rather deadly when ah'm forced in a corner, pilgrim." He snickered.

The guard stood a moment longer, his own brow beginning to sweat. He looked to the dead guard, and then back to the Joker, who raised an eyebrow in response. Finally, he swallowed and slowly exhaled. He gave a nod, and then turned and went to the still open door. Immediately, the Joker came behind.

"Ladies first." He told the guard, in spite of being a male. "After all, I know you're not silly enough to lock me in this cell again when I have the good doc."

The guard swallowed and exited. The Joker came right behind, dragging Labdaris with him, and stretching his legs a bit as he did so. It had been so long since he gave them a good stretch, after all. They felt rather stiff.

On passing out through the cell, he saw the other two guards plus the Orderly drones. But the men didn't move and the Orderlies had been shut down. Holding Labdaris along with the arm with the prod, he took the moment to whistle and blow kisses to them.

"Oh look! You were waiting for us! You're too kind. Go on, 'Klaudia'…give them a wave!"

"Please…l-l-let me g-g-go…" The man answered.

"Heh, I think I've run into puppies with more bravery than you, doc." The Joker snickered. He blinked a few times as he did so, feeling a bit of a headache. It must have been from the lights. "Do try to at least not call for your mommy before this is done. You have an image to keep up, don't you?" He wiped his brow a bit. "Ok, mac, lead on."

The guard swallowed, but did as he was told. Soon he went on past the guards, leading the Joker and Labdaris with him. It wasn't long before they came to the first junction. But before going that way, the guard shouted out ahead that the Joker was loose and had the doctor. As a result, when they came up, seeing several heavily armed guards and more Orderlies, they did nothing but watch at a distance. True, the Joker had to put his back to them as he passed and went into a hall, but he wasn't worried. He was a pro at this, after all. However, his legs did shake a bit as he went on.

"Phew! Maybe we'll hit the mess after this, 'Labby'! I'm feeling a bit drained from those 'scanty rations' you've been giving me. Oh, and rest assured, since my mind has been so intact I remember _each_ and _every_ thing you did to me…"

"It wasn't me…!" The doctor suddenly exclaimed. "I swear it wasn't! I didn't want to! I don't even know you!"

"Oh, come now, doc…" The Joker answered. "Is that really the best defense you can come up with?"

"It's t-"

Suddenly, one of the guards behind the Joker made a lunge for his back with prod outstretched. However, the clown was faster…and, in spite of holding onto Labdaris, whirled around in a heartbeat, shifted his grip with his other arm, swung out with his weapon-bearing arm, and slammed the prod against the side of his head as he tried to drive his own into him. A jolt of electricity later, and the guard went flying and slammed into a wall.

"Oops! No cigar!" He cheered. "And since you don't know how to behave, I guess I'll have to inflict a penalty…"

Lowering his free hand momentarily as he switched back, he seized one of Labdaris' hands and proceeded to seize his pinkie and break it enough for a compound fracture. The doctor screamed in agony.

"Now stop trying to distract me doc, hmm? Only thing I want to hear out of you is screams for mercy." The Joker answered, before turning around, wiping his brow again as he did so. The "mirth" in his tone dipped a bit. "Hurry it up! I've got places to go and people to see!"

The guard obeyed by picking up the pace, leading the Joker on again. His knees continued to shake and wobble. He realized he must have gone without food for so long that he was far from 'energized' enough for this much physical activity. That could be a problem, which meant he had to hurry up and be done with this. Yet unfortunately, not only did he have to weave his way through the maze for a long time, but he also had to go up a few sets of stone stairs. By then, his headache was definitely present, and it was starting to pound. Not only that, but he felt weakness in the rest of his limbs too.

As Labdaris degenerated into blubbering, crying softly, the Joker was now panting and sweating visibly as he went up another set of stairs. He spoke out again, this time the mirth gone and his voice taking its more "harsh" tone.

"How much longer, already?! You better not be lying to me or trying to lure me somewhere if you know what's good for you…"

"It's just up ahead!" The guard immediately called out, his own voice still tense.

"How far?!"

"Another hundred feet!"

"Well hurry already!"

The guard swallowed and did so, quickly rushing on further. This place just looked like more stone and masonry. None of the passages stood out in particular since that tunnel he had gone through on his first day. Yet just up ahead was another iron door with a barred window. And unlike the other places, there was white light coming from the interior…clearly a sign of electricity and not gas or fire.

By now, all of the Joker's limbs were quivering, and he was starting to feel aches. Before, he could dismiss this as simply hunger or being out of shape…but now he realized what was really going on. The virus…it was flaring again in spite of the cure he just took…assuming it was a cure at all… He was starting to feel that dull pain again…and in more places than just his limbs and the usual spaces. He was starting to feel it in his jaws…in his eyes…

Reaching the door, he snapped. "Open it!" He held onto Labdaris tighter, almost choking him. But he didn't care. He realized he had to look like he was still in full control of the situation…even though if he was surrounded by guards at this point he'd probably be helpless…

The guard did. The Joker blinked, for he wasn't able to focus much on what he was seeing, but as the door opened he saw that this was indeed something that "stood out" from the rest of the facility. It was actually a laboratory. Microscopes…petri dishes…vials…chemicals…media…the works. Everything one would expect in a biomedicine lab.

"In! Now!"

The man obeyed and went inside. The Joker followed close, panting hard now, his smile gone, and his steps slowing. He closed his grip to the "choking" point by now, and Labdaris began to flail in his grip, but he didn't care. The headache was growing and beginning to dull his thoughts. The pain was picking up…and picking up faster than last time. He hissed and looked to the guard once inside.

"Where's the vaccine?! The _real_ vaccine?!" He hissed. "You think I'm such a fool that I don't realize what's happening to me?!" In spite of himself, he began to quiet after saying that. He was getting so weak that he couldn't go around "shouting" anymore. It was starting to hurt too. Even his jaws were starting to hurt…or any part of his brain, for that matter.

Yet a moment later, a voice answered from the front of the room.

A woman's voice.

"Then you were a fool to think that the vaccine for a virus lodged inside your brain would be oral in the first place."

The Joker looked forward…and saw something his dazed state hadn't seen before. One of the chairs at the benches in the back was turned away…and a figure rose from it.

He could make out little, especially now, but like Dr. Labdaris, this person was dressed in all-concealing dark clothes. Yet this one took it further…now wearing a cape and hood like a shroud, and dressing it fully black. It too looked thick and worn, but was definitely a "costume" and not just an unusual base getup like the guards and the doctor had been wearing.

Yet as he stood there, getting dizzier and weaker…the guard suddenly lunged at him. In his weakened state, just seeing this figure arise was all the distraction he needed for a hand to reach out, seize the prod, and yank it away, and then grab the Joker's arm and try and twist it behind his back. A sudden rush of pain and trauma went to the Joker…and immediately it was magnified by the growing virus inside of him. He actually writhed and cried out from the pain wracking his body, siphoning his strength. He tried to fight back, but he realized he hadn't the power. And in the interim, it gave Labdaris the chance to slip out. Blubbering and crying, he fled away from him as fast as he could, running to one wall, pressing himself against the lab equipment, and cringing like a frightened rabbit.

As for the figure, it continued to turn…eventually revealing it was dressed in all-encompassing black…but also had a female's figure. The hood was thick and layered, bunched up around the neck and head…but even so the face couldn't be seen. A horrible red demon's mask was over it, covering it completely.

"Let him go." A woman's voice from beneath the mask sounded.

The guard did so…and with good reason. Weakened badly, the pain rushing through his body, the last of his strength giving out, the Joker went to the floor. Yet as he lay there and panted, his pain rapidly surged again. He tried to laugh in the face of it…but even that was soon agony. This was worse than ever. He only had a few moments to pant and sweat before he began to writhe, before he started making mild, stifled cries, for even making noise was agonizing. As he continued to lay there, the woman calmly walked forward, looking down over him dully…at least, so it seemed from behind the mask.

He was only able to get out one coherent phrase.

"Who…are…you…?"

"You should know the answer to that, Joker." The woman's voice answered. "I am Labdaris. The only things I lied to you about was the 'doctor' and 'Klaudius' title. Although…perhaps…I should use a different name so that you can differentiate better."

She came to a stop, casting her shadow over him, and looked down.

"Call me…Polunocnica. And don't blame yourself for not knowing any better. After all…you're such a clever man. The only way I could fool you was by using a ruse that not even the majority of those working for me knew about."

"Ms. Labdaris!"

The figure turned her head slightly to who had cried out…the man cringing against the console.

"I quit! I quit, you crazy bitch!" He squealed. "I didn't sign on for this! You guaranteed my safety from these psychopaths! You said I'd be free to carry on the role without interference! I wouldn't play this 'doctor of death' for another second even if you paid me triple! That bastard ruined my teeth! I'll never work on stage again!"

"Feel free to take your fee and leave, Elvis. I wouldn't ask you to stay again after that even if it _was_ necessary." Polunocnica answered before looking down on the Joker again. "Elvis Balodis is quite a talented actor and he was kind enough to do everything I told him for a suitable fee. I'm amazed at how fluently he passed on my wishes, desires, methods, and techniques as if I myself was carrying them out. I just had to keep him abreast of everything I wanted to do. That coat was the perfect place for hiding an earpiece and a microphone, and it did the job nicely. I meant every word about wanting to make sure I couldn't kill you unless I made you an example. Sadly, it seemed you never took the bait that Alicia offered, who is also quite a talented young actor. You see, I work on 'principles', sir. Surely you can appreciate 'principles', right?"

The Joker couldn't answer. He was too pain stricken now…and it was getting worse and worse…blotting out all other senses.

"Enjoying my 'accelerant'?" She asked. "That's what you took, in case you haven't realized yet. Your virus is flaring up into an advanced state now. I'm honestly not sure if you can even still hear me in there or feel anything but pain. Right now, that's your entire world."

She slowly bent down near him.

"Of course…that's just what you like, isn't it, sir? That's what you're all about? A world of bringing pain to others? You find it funny, don't you?" Soon after, a snicker came from behind the mask. "And…I have to admit…heh…seeing the 'big bad clown' everyone claimed was a criminal bad enough to take on the Justice League if he wanted…reduced to his 'true form'…such a sad little man…I find it positively hilarious. Heh…I can't remember the last time I smiled this much. I'd show you, but…there's really no point as you can't really see anything now. Yes, you see…I realized just how funny bringing pain is some time ago. Unlike you, _I_ got over it. I can thank a wonderful doctor for that. Such a pity you didn't want to take me up on a similar offer… I really _did_ intend to take you back to Gotham City. You see…if you had been kind enough to wait until you were loaded on the helicopter…Elvis would have shown you he had a _second_ cure on him, in his other pocket. That was the real deal. After all, you only saw the pill…no one ever told you it actually _was_ the cure, did they? Yet I knew it would be too good to resist, and that you'd finally justify my beliefs and condemn yourself…that you are without redemption or hope."

She reached down and actually patted his head. Even as she did, the door to the room opened again…and more guards entered, quite calm now, and moved in around them. The Joker made a noise like a grunt from his pain.

"Shh, shh…" Polunocnica said gently. "Don't your worry your little head. Your pain will be over soon. But I'd get used to that feeling of helplessness you're experiencing right now. You see…you've angered me, sir. I put up with the abuse of your fellow patients, but you, with all your intelligence, rejected any attempt by me to make you better. And you had the audacity to be so brazen about it. I won't abide that. Any death, as slow and horrible as it might be, is insufficient for that."

Slowly, the woman leaned over him, going down to his ear. She softly whispered into it.

"…Do you remember what I told you would happen to you if you tried to trick me? Because _I_ haven't forgotten _that_."

She slowly leaned back, seeming to drink in the pain of the man before her, as she went back into a seated position. She actually "stroked" his hair once, before she rose to her feet and looked down over him.

"I think he's overdue for his surgery…so let's get him 'soaped up' already. Such a pity he can't be sedated… It's been ages since I've cut into someone… I swore I'd never do it again to another human being, after all." A pause. "…Which is why it's so wonderful that I've been provided with this human-shaped animal instead."

One of the guards spoke up. "I didn't come in just to help move him out, Ms. Labdaris. One of the sources back in Riga watching that hotel we found…we saw him come by and destroy what was left of his device. He has to be on his way right now."

The figure paused a moment. "…Then we have no choice. Start setting up everything for the final 'test'. If we don't now, we may never get the chance."

* * *

_To be concluded..._


	11. What No One Saw Coming

AUTHOR'S NOTE: For those of you who also read "Yuki no Megami"...no chapter this week. Sorry...took me forever to finish this story.

* * *

It was shaping up to be an overcast day and snowing to boot when morning came. Such a thing naturally "delayed" what would be the normal time for sunrise. Yet somehow…perhaps due to being on the ocean…the sun gave enough glow through the clouds to see the island as the Batboat approached.

It definitely wasn't anything to look at from the ground. Nothing but a rocky atoll with high cliffs on all sides, like a pillar dropped from the heavens. Given the surrounding terrain, for it was by no means the only one of its kind in the area, it seemed as if it was the last remnant of a much larger island, but that the crashing waves and bitter storms had slowly "eaten away" at the sides until all that was left was an inaccessible barren piece of rock. The cliffs, at their lowest point, were a good 100 feet in the air. Batman could tell that much from the early morning light, and without the aid of his computer. At the moment, he couldn't see the larger ship that he had commissioned Red Robin to send here on auto-pilot. There seemed to be enough "crevasses" within the atoll to tuck it out of the way, which was exactly how Batman preferred it…not easily seen. There was a fairly decent "AI" in the ship to ensure that it would remain hidden, and it was responsive to incoming aircraft, but still…that boat had to have been there for days. Luckily, he got a beacon on his radar indicating the craft was docked on the far side.

He tapped into a Waynetech GPS satellite as he got nearer and tried to get a magnification of the top of the island. He could make out little besides a single entrance. Apparently most of the structure was underground, with only a small pad on top. Probably better for Labdaris. There was no way to tell there was any activity going on there, provided everything that came in was aircraft and it all "got in and out". He didn't see any structures like hangers either, indicating that even the military helicopter he encountered had to have just been running in and running out. It also meant there were no outer defenses to greet him. In truth, he doubted there was much in the way of military tech, helicopter notwithstanding. Most of whatever funds Labdaris had control over had to have been devoted to making the facility fully operational and the other technology. At any rate, he wasn't going to take chances.

As the Batboat keyed into a good location for "docking", and Batman confirmed it and began to deaccelerate, he gave himself one last look over. He was in the fully armed Batsuit now. With the reinforcement, he had little to fear from projectile darts "head on", although he knew he'd have to watch it in the case of "chinks" in his armor. He had no effective cure for what had hit Sophia, so he had to make sure to be careful and rely on what he was best at…striking first from the shadows. To that end, he had his normal compliment of smoke bombs, advanced batarangs, explosive gel, and fully functional EMP grenades with the full six foot radius in addition to his other "toys", including his communicator and decoder. Should the worst happen, he typed a few keys into the Batboat to start relaying messages back to the Batplane with his progress. He may have lacked a detailed blueprint of the facility, but he had attached his special sonar relay to his belt and his cowl had the built-in visor. He'd have a map of the facility in no time, with any luck.

A few moments later, the Batboat slowly came to a stop within one of the thinner rocky crags. It wasn't very hidden, but that didn't matter. He was striking now. A moment later, he pressed a few buttons, and the ship went on "sleep" mode as the cockpit slid open. As it did, the seat below him reconfigured to a flat surface, and pushed him out with it. With a bit of extra work on his part, he was soon rising into a standing position. The snow and wind whipped around him, but not even his cape seemed too disturbed as he rolled a bit on the waves.

From there, he looked up to the cliffs. It was still dark out, but with a flick of one of his gauntlet-mounted buttons, his cowl visor snapped down over his eyes and engaged in infrared, allowing him to make out the outline of the cliff even through the falling snow. An instant later, his grapple gun was out and aimed at an angle, meaning to pull him closer to the cliff from a horizontal standpoint. After taking a moment to set it to "overcalibrate", he fired the harpoon. It landed near the edge a moment later, and immediately yanked upward.

This was faster than what he was used to. He actually felt a jolt in his arm as he was practically launched into the air. The power was so great that he not only overshot his mark, but he was literally thrown up over the cliff the rest of the way. Luckily, he had to foresight to dock his ship close to the wind, so that when he snapped his cape open wide into glider mode a second later, it was rapidly caught and pushed him farther inland, more over the atoll. In fact, with the wind blowing the way it was, he probably could have sailed right clear to the other side if he wasn't careful. But used to buffeting winds, he merely let himself glide about 200 feet before he snapped his wings closed, and immediately dropped onto the rock for just the slightest "click" of a landing.

He crouched on doing so, but soon rose again and looked about. The atoll was mostly flat and even, but there was a concrete bunker entrance not far from him. Thick and formidable, it could probably have allowed a truck to squeeze in at one point, and it likely did to aid with construction. There were heavy metal doors, rusted and old, covering it, but nothing else. No padlocks or other defenses.

Batman's eyes narrowed before he began to approach the doors. He wasn't stupid enough to think that there wasn't some sort of security system spotting him even now. He could tell that easily enough by adjusting his visor to look for "signal heat". Yet it would take too long to pinpoint every single camera and sensor. He had a feeling Labdaris knew he was coming all along…especially after reading the files that Oracle had forwarded to him in the Batboat. That meant there was no time to waste. He had already spent far too much.

Reaching the doors, he nearly went for his gel, but tested them first. On seeing they weren't bolted, he hesitated only a moment, but then opened them up and stepped inside.

* * *

"Here's here."

The fist of the woman in black clenched. "Now or never. Begin the final therapy session."

* * *

Quinzell was shaken from her sleep by a sound of keys fumbling in a lock. After all, she had trained herself to "get up" at the sound of those…before men burst into her cell and started kicking her to "get up, you lazy maggot". For a number of days she would begin to whimper and recoil every time that happened. Yet now she just readily got up. About the time that Natalie started showing up, the abuse got worse, but her headaches subsided while she slept, at the bare minimum. Besides…having someone to talk to was a good feeling. It was kind of like how when Red would visit…

She kind of wished she was here now… Natalie told her that her body couldn't "take" the torture in the way they were doing it, so they relocated her to another facility. Over time, the others had been moved away too. There were only two inmates still in the current facility…herself and Mr. J.

At any rate, in spite of that, with the headaches clearing and someone treating her like a human being, Quinzell had managed to finally shake off her permanent state of fear and feel a bit more "clear-headed". She still cringed and whimpered at the beatings and "therapy", but she was getting better at times when she wasn't being subjected to that sort of thing. Hence, she fearfully turned her head up toward the door as she heard the lock turn, but she didn't immediately burst into tears.

However, she got a surprise a moment later when the door opened completely, revealing the shadow of someone she never expected to see…especially not opening her cell.

"…N…Natalie?"

"Shh!" The woman hushed before immediately running in. To the surprise of the woman, she was soon at her side and actually bringing a key to her chains. "Stay quiet! I've got to get you out of here and to the storage closet! I managed to swipe some of the vaccine for your virus, but they'll notice it's gone in no time!"

Quinzell blinked at this…even as she felt Natalie, hands quivering and trembling, manage to get a key in her right shackle lock and undo it…feeling the air on her wrist. "You're…you're bustin' me out of the joint?"

"I can't leave you here when I go…and I'm leaving right now." She answered as she quickly moved to her other hand, undid it, and then went for her legs. "I hope you're strong enough to walk, though…because the only way out is a long way…"

Coming a bit more alert, Harleen looked up. "What…what are you talking about, kid? I mean, I love that you're gettin' me out of here, but why-"

"You and the Joker aren't the only inmates here." Natalie answered as she quickly undid a leg cuff. "Now that they say that you're all 'lost causes'…they're bringing in more. Including people from Latvia. Including…" She hesitated a moment, then swallowed. "…My boyfriend."

As the last shackle came off, Quinzell's full attention was on Natalie. "You're boyfriend? You ain't mentioned a boyfriend before now…"

"He's…kind of…off and on…" Natalie nervously answered. "We…were 'on again' for a while before I came to work here…but…but then…" She trailed off.

Quinzell blinked. "…But then what?"

The woman shook her head. "It doesn't matter." She said as she reached out and took Harleen's hands, helping her up to her feet. "Let's just say I met up with him again three nights ago on a trip to the mainland. That's why I wasn't around for a while. And…um…well, we got in an argument…things happened…and…Dr. Labdaris caught wind of it and wanted him in here. But the doctor's crazy! He's gone to killing everyone! He even had three of the staff killed! I have to get out of here, Harleen…but…" She gulped as the other woman was on her feet, and began to lead her to the door.

"…But?" The woman asked.

"…But I can't leave you here." She answered softly. "I know you've done a lot of bad things, but…I always thought there was hope for you since the time we met. Even if you're not 'better'…I don't know what Labdaris will do to you if I leave you alone again for even a day. So I'm going to get you out of here…"

She soon led her up to the door. Quinzell, on her part, was dizzy and sick…and her thoughts were still rather "blurred"….but she realized she couldn't let this opportunity go by. This was her chance to get out of here. Who knew if the others had already met the same fate as Croc and Zsasz? Yet on realizing that, as they came close to the light and Natalie pressed against the side of the door and looked out, her mind clicked.

_Mr. J! He's still in here!_

_I…I…_

To Harleen's surprise…the thought she wanted to have…the thing she wanted to say…"I can't leave him here"…didn't come to mind. As much as she tried to focus on her love for him…all that came up was his constant abuse…his beatings…his attempted _murders_…

Yet as she tried to think, she stopped again at what she saw.

Now that Natalie was in the light, she noticed that where her wrist was exposed…a rather large, ugly bruise in the shape of a hand was present.

Not only that…one of her eyes was puffy.

"…Kid, what happened to-"

Natalie cut her off quickly, looking nervous that Quinzell even began to ask that question. "The coast is clear…but there's a catch. There's only one way out of this place: the doctor's landing. The same place the guards and specialists who are trained in psychiatry handle the 'minor' cases and refer them back to the doctor. That's the only route to the helicopter, and the helicopter is the only way off of Sheol. Now…they already know my face in that wing, but there's so many doctors spread out, and you're such a special case, that they don't know what you look like. So…I've got the coat and some of my old clothes, and I'm sure if I take a minute to clean you up…"

Quinzell blinked. "Hold on…what now?"

Natalie turned to her. "…You need to fake being a psychiatrist long enough for us to get out."

"Wha…what?!" The woman shouted back, forgetting her volume, and managing to think coherently. "Kid, I'm no doc!"

The attendant looked puzzled. "But…you used to be a psychiatrist…"

"A long time ago!" Quinzell whined. "I don't remember even one of my classes!"

"Please, Ms. Quinzell!" The woman pleaded. "It's the only way out! And…and…" She hesitated a moment, and then groaned. "…And I can't do this on my own! I'm scared! But I know you're bolder and braver than I am!"

Harleen hesitated. That…was odd. This was the first time she could ever recall someone saying they "needed her". It…was a strange sensation. Normally she needed Ivy's shoulder to cry on or Mr. J for some fun, but…the fact that this regular ol' girl was asking for her help, needing her help…it gave a strange feeling inside of her…

After a bit, in spite of being nervous, dizzy, and wobbling, Quinzell gave a sigh. "…I make no guarantees, but I'll give it a whirl…"

Natalie managed a small smile. "Thanks… This way!"

She soon headed outside of the cell. Quinzell followed only after a moment…for she noticed Natalie was limping a bit as she walked…

* * *

Edward Nigma was unceremoniously tossed into his cell this time…for a rather solid and painful impact. Considering his last therapy session, he wasn't exactly in the best of shape to "roll with it" or anything else. He merely smashed into the ground, jarring his long-since-bruised, possibly broken, chin, and soon heard the men snort behind him. They spoke in Latvian…but obviously didn't realize their inmate could translate every word they said.

"Should we chain him up?"

"Why bother?" The other snorted. "The idiot worm is going to be executed in three hours. He won't 'tunnel his way out' before then."

Nigma heard this, but remained limp and stiff as a board. With his strength gone, all he could do now was make himself "flaccid" to try and minimize impact damage. It had saved some bones in the past when dealing with the Batman, after all…although he was a bit too weak to give it the proper "focus" at this point in time. At any rate, he soon heard the men shift to the door. In moments, it shut, plunging him into darkness…but the visor from earlier was left open, leaving a single ray of light still shining into the cell as it was locked. The two guards moved forward a bit but didn't immediately leave.

"So why is the experiment ending?" They continued in their native language.

"Turns out the 'doctor' got cold feet. He wasn't even Labdaris. Just an actor hired by the real Labdaris. As for why that is…damned if I know. I don't even know who the real Labdaris is."

"Who cares so long as we get paid. Three more hours and we can leave this hell hole behind." The glance looked back to the cell. The man no doubt couldn't see into the darkness, but by now Nigma had turned his head just enough to look out, and kept his eye half-lidded, as if senseless, and watching. "Might as well just leave the rats in their cages. They either starve to death in there, escape to go to the surface and freeze, or the illness kills them. We don't have to lift a finger."

"Fine by me. I'm tired of seeing his ugly face…" The man snorted before walking on. Soon after, the fellow guard followed him.

Edward listened to the footsteps slowly fade…and then exhaled. So…this was how it ended. There was a time when he would have smiled smugly. When he would have said this was all part of his plan. When he would have enacted a brilliant strategy and gotten himself out of here. Yet he could think of nothing. He could do nothing. There was no way out of the cell…no "hacking magic" to pull…no "hand-made tools" to pick a lock…nothing. He realized he couldn't think of any way out of here. And realizing that…made him afraid. It made him more fearful than anything else in this place. He tried to tell himself his mind was just messed up…that he couldn't think straight…but he couldn't. He had now "imprinted" on the fact that he was a fool…that he didn't know the answers…that he didn't know _anything_. And it hurt…it hurt worse than anything the Batman had ever done by foiling him. He began to believe it…that he really was stupid…foolish…that he wasn't half the man he always thought he was… And if not that…then what was he? Bane had his strength, the Joker had his tricks, and even Two Face was able to intimidate the other crime lords…but what about him? Without his intelligence…what was he…?

Ironically, he almost found himself wanting to cry out for Nathan. It was childish…but he was the only one in this place who ever marveled at his intelligence…who was wowed every time he guessed a riddle that he thought was hard…the only one who made him feel "smart"…

On that note, he suddenly heard footsteps again. He wasn't "up and at them" at the moment, so he had no need to hide or conceal himself again…not that he really could given his physical condition without a "running start", but for now he just looked dully to the window, appearing to be limp once again.

A moment later, the footsteps grew loud enough to where they were right outside his cell. They sounded like a normal, calm gait…and soon he saw the head of someone familiar pass by: Nathan. However, the young man didn't stop to chat. He didn't even hesitate in his step as he walked right by…

And…as he did…his hand went up and casually tossed something into the cell. It landed only a few feet in front of Edward a moment later with a tinkle of metal.

Nigma blinked, but the man didn't stop for an explanation, and soon his footsteps were fading out of sight as well. Only when there was a moment of silence and the beaten man realized nothing else was coming did he turn himself around and slowly peel off the floor. He was beaten and sore, but he had mostly "taken" his latest round of therapy, being so used to it by now. Using that, he managed to pick himself up enough to crawl around and forward to where the metal hit. He couldn't see that well and his mind was a blur, so he had to reach out and fumble for it. A moment later, his hand clasped the object…

A metal key…with a small piece of paper wrapped around it.

Realizing that it had to be a note, Nigma crawled closer to the door. The top visor was still open, so he moved into the beam of light and held the key up to it. Sure enough, there was a scrap of paper there with pencil writing, and he quickly unraveled it and looked it over, finding the writing in English.

_Down the hall. Left. Two crossings. Right. Go straight until the end. Start in ten minutes. Be careful._

The man blinked a bit. Was Nathan…breaking him out? A part of him was almost insulted…realizing that he had to rely on a total "rookie" to get out of this. However…a part of him forced himself to swallow his pride. There was no other way out of this. He had no idea that they were moving to execution…or worse, abandonment…out of the blue. He was fortunate enough to know the language they were speaking. He had to use that knowledge to get out of here…

As he moved to the door, grasping the key, knowing that these old locks could open from either side, however…he paused. He realized something. This whole time…he had been duped. Labdaris was never who he claimed to be. An imposter all along…likely someone who worked in Arkham Asylum. How else had they been able to get them all so easily? Odds are going back to Gotham City the true culprit would be waiting for them…watching them…perhaps even smiling and greeting them… An enigma to solve… A mystery challenge…

And yet…in spite of all of that…he found himself moving the key to the lock.

_Do I really want to risk this? That virus is still inside me… I need to find a way to cure it… Nathan might get me back to Gotham City in time for Batman to devise something, but…but… Damn it! I'd have to rely on _him_ next! And I want to know who did this! Who got the better of me! And how?!_

Edward didn't know what to do…and he was torn… Part of him was able to move to actually escape…and told himself to try and ignore the mystery as much pain as it had caused him…while another part demanded he stay. So for now…he slowly turned the key in the lock to open the door…

* * *

Harvey Dent got a rather rude awakening. To be honest, if he hadn't spent the last few weeks outside of Gotham City, he would have thought nothing of it. But in his mind-addled state, between his headache, pain, and weakness…the sound of gunshots suddenly ripping down the hall only made him snap awake to attention. It wasn't long after that when he got another pounding headache as what sounded like a rather loud alarm began to blare in his ears. He didn't even know there were such things as alarms in this place…at least ones that weren't being used for sleep deprivation punishment…but he soon clutched his ears and writhed in pain, looking out angrily toward the door of what it could be.

Weak as he was from his latest torment, he forced himself to get up and stagger to his feet. He wasn't chained at the moment, so he began to approach the door with something of a hobble and a limp. Yet before he could reach the visor, the lights outside suddenly went dark. That was shocking enough as it was. After all, everything here was kept running by fire, not electricity. Dent reasoned they had to be using gaslights by now. He wondered what could have just cut it off…

He recoiled a moment later, hearing another series of gunshots. They were wild, crazy, and from, he could tell, a rather large caliber weapon. The echo was so loud that if it had been fired inside his cell it probably would have deafened him. As it was, he shot back and covered his ears, gritting his teeth and trying not to fall backward from the sudden noise and pain.

As a result, he was rather stunned when he heard a key in the lock of the door a moment later, and it flew open…revealing a surprising sight.

It was Joseph…covered with sweat…his clothes torn and dirty…shaking all over like a leaf…and holding a rather massive handgun in one hand and a syringe in the other.

Harvey blinked in astonishment. "…What the hell are you do-"

Joseph cut him off, rushing forward and putting the syringe in his hands. "H-H-Here, Mr. Dent. Take it. You have to stick it. I'm shaking too much. It should cure that virus in you. Hurry. We don't have long." He nervously looked back out the way he came. "I'm not sure if the one I shot is down…"

This only stunned the scarred man even more. "Sure he's down? What are you…"

Joseph looked back to him and cut him off again. "The Orderlies! Something took control of their programming! I don't know what…but there had to be a malfunction in central control! They're going ballistic! They're killing everyone! Look!"

He leaned back and pointed out the door. Dent hesitated, but then moved forward, reluctantly taking the syringe in spite of what the attendant said it was, and then looked out.

There were a few "dim" lights still on, in the form of pilot lights. It formed just enough illumination, along with some sparking, to see the twitching remains of one of the Orderlies, looking like it was trying to get up but was too heavily damaged to move. However…two guards, their bodies twisted "the wrong way", were also lying around it.

"It's got to be a terrorist or an escapee or something!" Joseph went on, gesturing around. "They killed the lights too! Those guys are just the first! They're moving everywhere! Crushing people…twisting their necks…ripping them apart…" He began to breathe heavier and harder as he said this, swallowing and trembling. "Oh god…he…he…he was looking…right at me…and I heard it…I heard it…"

Realizing that he was "going blank", Harvey, in spite of his shock at what happened, and his own weakened mental state, turned to him. He actually reached out and gave him a light slap on the cheek…gentle compared to things he had done in the past, but not just due to weakness.

"Snap out of it!" He shouted to him. "Man up! You fall apart now you'll end up like them!"

The young man swallowed, shaken by the blow, and shook his head. He panted once or twice, and then nodded. "Yeah…yeah, you're right… We've got to keep calm…" He looked back to him. "…Everyone upstairs is already dead. We…we might be the last two alive. I would be if I hadn't found this in the armory... We've got to get out before whoever's doing this closes the bulkheads or we're finished. I…I managed to get that syringe before they broke into the lab… It should cure you…but I only have the one gun…and…I never shot one before… I kind of 'went everywhere'…"

Dent hesitated a moment, looking at him. This young man had no nerve. He could tell. Guys like him he could break without even resorting to hired goons. He had to have gotten to this cell on luck alone. Wishy-washy wimps like him would normally disgust Dent…but he held. There was something about him…something about all their "times" together…that made him feel a little like "the old Harvey"… And to be honest, the thought of doing something "bad" at the moment still got him…

He exhaled, and finally held out his hand.

Joseph blinked, looking at it. "What are-"

"Coin."

"…Huh?"

"A coin, damnit! A quarter if you have it!" He snapped back. "My head's a mess and I need one!"

Joseph hesitated, but then swallowed and reached into his pocket. He fished around a moment later and produced one. He passed it over to him. Harvey took it…and, to be honest…almost felt sick. The thought of even flipping it brought back pain to his memory. He winced and even cringed. However, somehow, he managed to at least "toss" it into the air and catch it in his hand.

"Heads, you take the gun. Tails, you give it to me."

He opened his palm.

Tails it was.

"Hand it over."

The young man looked a bit nervous…but he also seemed to draw some hope or comfort from Dent. He was already looking to him nervously, his young look dependent on him for guidance now. He ended up handing over the weapon. Harvey took it and tucked it in his waistband, and then quickly began to pull up his sleeve.

"Hope you're right about this crap…" He said as he got the syringe ready.

* * *

Contrary to what people thought, Pamela Isley was still half human, both physically as well as from a mental standpoint. That meant when she was in this dark cell, in spite of her gnawing hunger and weakness, she needed sleep too. Truth be told, she had been feeling stronger for a while…until she had decided to use the toxin on Catherine. Whether she had been telling the truth…whether she really had planned on sparing her life once she was done with her…she honestly didn't know. But even that was an "improvement", she supposed…at least in the eyes of her captors. There was a time when she would have cradled Catherine's innocent, entranced face one last time before sending her into the jaws of a gigantic Venus Flytrap, and the last thing she would have heard in her entranced mind would have been Ivy calling out to the vine: "Bon Appetite." Now…she realized even if she brought herself to kill Catherine at one point…she'd make it quick and painless…assuming she even wanted to do it at all. The woman had saved her life. And as angry and sore as she was over the nasty burns she had on her body which hurt terribly even now…she realized it was better than death. One could always "regrow".

And because of that…in spite of her best efforts in her addled, tortured mind…she couldn't bring herself to hate that woman. Just like she couldn't bring herself to hate Harley either. There were, in fact, "apes" in the world she thought were "worth sparing". And so long underground…separated from her plants…constantly being tortured…she was thinking more and more along the lines of being "human" all the time. It was true…no "plant" would have stood up for Ivy unless she made it. It would have just "grown there" otherwise. Catherine did…

_…__I'm not even calling them my "babies" now…_

_And that's not horrifying me as much as it should…_

Before she could think any more on this, however…she got a rather nasty "awakening".

Abruptly…the door to her cell was blown inward to the tune of a gigantic, fiery explosion.

Isley quickly and instinctively slammed herself to the floor of her cell, but luckily for her the blast "twisted" the door so that it went over her. Otherwise she might have had part of her body caught behind it and the corresponding part ripped free from the rest of her. As it was…the metal door fractured the stonework behind her. What followed behind it was a deafening blast that nearly took out her eardrums, complete with flames and heat. Pamela actually cried out and recoiled, fresh pain from heat and shock enough to jar her to "life" and make her retreat for it. Yet as she pulled herself to her feet and looked out the open door, she gaped in shock.

The hallway was in flames. Large panels and sections of wall had been blown clean out and were burning steadily from pipes…indicating the true source of all of those torches she had been seeing. The entire facility had to run on natural gas interconnected throughout the walls. And now…it seemed as if one of the lines had burst. Perhaps more than one…because sirens were going out farther ahead…and screams were everywhere. To her surprise, an inflamed guard, screaming and trying in vain to put himself out, suddenly ran right past the now-open entrance to her cell. He didn't regard her in the least, naturally…and only staggered a few more feet before his screaming stopped and he collapsed on the floor. More screams quickly began to die out.

Pamela was stunned. She looked out the cell a moment, seeing fire wrapping through everything, and the entire facility rapidly beginning to fill with smoke. Whatever was combustible out there was going to burn soon. Already, her own cell was getting dangerously hot. She had no idea what had triggered this…but it seemed whatever had just caused that natural gas eruption had blown through most of the people guarding her wing, and whoever was left had to be burning to death. As she forced her legs underneath her and began to rise, she heard another powerful blast echo through the dungeon area, followed by more distant screams. More natural gas eruptions. Assuming she didn't burn to death soon with everyone else, the air would be gone in no time.

Even if she wasn't keen on escaping, that was her cue. Virus of no virus…either she would have to struggle to put down the pain and infection later or cook here. With that in mind, in spite of being thirsty, weak, and drained, she managed to stagger fully to her feet and started to hobble to the doorway.

Even as she went, the fire in the wall opposite her flared, and another explosion decimated the cell to her left as soon as she got out of the door. The heat was unbearable, especially in her current state, but the smoke was much worse. She began to cough…and she realized she didn't have much strength to keep doing that. Being immune to toxins was one thing…even poison gases. But smoke would smother her completely as it would eventually to any plant. It would just take a little longer than normal. She had to leave quick…

Yet as she stepped out, her mind clicked.

_The plants!_

There was at least one plant still in this facility. After all, they needed one for her therapy. And right now, with all of this fire…it could be dying. Maybe several of them dying. She had to get to them. Luckily, when she had briefly entranced Catherine, she had told her where the greenhouse was. It was a bit far off…but she had to try. She couldn't leave them to die in here. Besides…she might need them to escape as it was. And she had to hurry if she would make it in time…either for the plants, or for herself…

Quickly, she turned down a corner, covered her mouth, and went as fast as her weakened body could take her.

* * *

Jonathan Crane couldn't think too clearly at the moment. He was having a hard time focusing on anything, including what was going on. He couldn't stand what was happening. He could feel fear…yet he couldn't feel fear. That was the greatest confusion…the greatest contradiction. The thing keeping him from being able to make sense out of anything else. The physical abuse and torture he could deal with…but this was madness. What made things even worse was that the only time he felt like "himself", namely when Baxter was around, he couldn't bring himself to "scare" him. How could he? Even if he could torment him into suicide or at least a quivering mess…then he'd have nothing but the guards, the torture, and the darkness…nothing for him to "vent" himself upon. Then he'd _really_ lose himself…

Stricken with the inability to use fear…yet surrounded by fear…being subjected to fear…yet unable to transmit fear… It was driving him mad… He was cringed on the floor now, twitching, struggling to think something coherent…to recall some of his brilliant theories from back in his university days…and coming up with nothing. How long had he been here? How long had he been made to feel fear instead of being an object of it? What was his body doing right now? Anticipating punishment? Was that the same as fear? Would it substitute? He didn't know… His head was "falling apart". He couldn't keep anything straight…

The door clicked. Someone rapped a knuckle on it. He turned and looked up from the floor, and saw the visor open, letting in the angry glare of a guard.

"Wake up, lazy slug." He snorted. "You'll receive your punishment now."

Crane blinked. _…Punishment? For what? _He had no idea…and honestly didn't remember one day to the next. Everything had "mashed together" in a blur at this point. Had he done something…?

At any rate, the door was unlocked…and soon a group of guards was walking into the cell. Not only that, but they had a gurney with them plus all of the restraints. They moved right up to the limp man, seized by the arms, forcefully "drug" him out of his curled up state, and began to hoist him to his feet as they started to undo his shackles.

"It took the doctor some time to find a suitable death for you." One snorted. "We finally found acid concentrated enough to bathe you in…"

Crane blinked, more of his senses and wits coming back to him. The result was shock. What was going on? As he got force to his limbs, however, his captors only held him tighter and forcefully undid the last of the shackles, before moving up over to the gurney. At that point, he realized what was happening. Although it seemed like years ago now…he was going to get the same punishment as Zsasz and Croc. He was going to meet a gruesome, slow death. And in spite of the fact he thought he had long since become immune to fear…that scared him. It made his heart race. His adrenaline being to pump. He looked around, his eyes growing more "alert" and "aware", but all he saw was himself surrounded by the four men. Blocking the way out. There was no escape. Even as he got the strength to fight, he realized it was irrelevant. He was going to die…

Yet just as they moved him into position…something happened.

A rumble, like an explosion, went out far overhead, and the guards snapped to it in surprise, especially as dust rained from the ceiling.

A moment later…the lights went totally out.

"What the-?!" Crane heard.

"Bloody hell!"

"Just hold the maggot! Make sure he doesn't get out!"

By now, Crane had been rather "cowed" and humbled. Most of his old instincts from his "sharper" days were gone. Besides…he really couldn't effect an escape from Arkham Asylum without his fear toxin. Yet in spite of that, he had "muscle memory"…and in his shattered mind the faint traces of techniques he used to use…the fact that he had walked every inch of this cell in pitch blackness and knew every corner and brick of it…the fact that he saw where all the men were and knew exactly what they would do and how they would move in a situation like this…

And knowing that he was going to die…fueled by fear…something in his brain "clicked".

_Now! Now or never!_

Moving lithely, he suddenly slipped back, ducked, and ran forward. He could feel the heat of two men on either side of him, but he went through so fluidly and smoothly, even in pitch-black darkness, that he didn't even brush their clothes. He didn't run for the exit. He ran for the side…for the wall…and pressed himself against it. Not making a sound, he slid back to the corner, away from the sounds of movement and flailing. Soon, he heard more voices.

"What…he's gone!"

"What?"

"I can't feel him in the gurney!"

"Find him! Now!"

"Doesn't anyone have a light?!"

"I do!"

Crane was patient. Frightened and addled as he was, he was growing bolder…more "used" to this. And as a result, he waited until he heard the footsteps part, the four men break for the walls of the room and one for the exit, and then shot back out and in their midst. He stood there silently, not making a sound, as he heard them fumble along the walls and look out in the hall. A moment later, he heard a click, and a flashlight turned on in the corridor. The man out there quickly swept it in either direction…while Crane moved to the backside of the wall adjacent to his door and stood there silently. Soon, the beam shone into the cell…and revealed nothing except the searching men.

Another eruption went out, shaking the whole place. The men looked up.

"The Russians? The Latvians?"

"They may be shutting us down…"

"Well, hurry and find him! I don't want that maggot running around while we escape!"

"He's not in the hall! He has to be in the cell still!"

The guard in the hall rushed in, meaning to sweep the light beam through the cell this time. However, Crane merely waited until he ran through the doorway…and then slid by him like a slip of paper on a breeze and rushed into the hall. After that, he ran as fast as he could while keeping silent down a blackened hall, to the tune of another eruption.

Darkness didn't scare him, after all. And this was his only chance to get out. Infected as he was, he had gotten a treatment recently. If he didn't try to escape now he might never get the chance…

* * *

The guards had a plan for the Batman.

Before they even lined up in the main hall, taking cover behind whatever columns and masonry braced it, each one armed with special "viral guns", they had cut the gaslights. The entire hall was pitch black. You couldn't see your hand in front of your own face…unless you had night-vision goggles, of course, which they all did. There were two dozen of them ready to fight. Although they made up half of who was "leftover" to handle any intruders, they were all armed, and two dozen Orderlies were with them, each one standing behind their "flesh and blood" companion and ready to fight. Each had night vision in operation too and was ready to move at a moment's notice. All they had to do was wait for him now.

In spite of the overwhelming advantage, the men were nervous. Most were from Eastern Europe but they heard tales of how the Batman had foiled one "ambush" after another in his career, even with seemingly only one entry point and escape. And even with their bodies rendered immune to pain, they still were fearful of what he might do. Handling helpless thugs was one thing…but a man who was practically a living ghost…who managed to hold his own against foes who gave the likes of Superman, the Green Lantern, and Wonder Woman a run for their money…

A noise was heard from up the stone stairway. The men looked up and readied themselves. They knew what was coming, if last time was any indication. Smoke bombs. However, they had him on the stairs. Even if they shot wildly, he couldn't "duck" on those. But even if he tried to "jump" down, there were men aiming for the floor. They had him covered this time. Everyone began to tighten on their triggers as they looked through the darkness, waiting for a form to appear at the top of the stairs. Waiting for the first move…

A moment later, a small sphere began to "bounce" down the stairs. They reacted and nearly fired…but then held. This must have been it…the smoke bomb. They let it go, instead focusing on the stairs again. They ignored again a moment later when two more spheres came down afterward. They figured it was more of the same. It was a big corridor, after all…

The first sphere hit bottom well before the others, and broke open. They expected a release of smoke.

Instead…a blinding flash went out.

"AAH!"

"Gah!"

The bodies might have been deadened to pain…but not from overload of sensory stimulus. A smoke bomb didn't go off…a brilliant flash did instead. One of Batman's "blinding" grenades…and to people looking at it through night vision goggles that were cheap, that didn't have protection against lens flares, their equipment soon went offline as they themselves were blinded. Crying out in pain, the guards reared back and began to tear off their goggles. All of them had suffered somewhat…but even those who had suffered only a little were powerless to do anything as the next two grenades landed…and erupted into true smoke bombs. Big ones too, almost immediately flooding the large corridor with vapor.

The ones in the lead, still quite blind, whipped out their guns to fire wildly, hoping to hit what they knew was coming…and were too late as darts flew into their necks, causing them to collapse. A moment later, a man cried out to the sound of an electric jolt, and then collapsed. Soon after, another one joined him. A brilliant flash went off a second later…shutting down a pair of Orderlies that had tried to converge on the noise.

Batman knew what he was doing now. He was back in his element…now that he had experience and was fully equipped. The attack had been a "one-two" punch. He knew full well the lights had to be out to hit him with night vision snipers…so he started with a flare to blind them and short-circuit the machinery, followed by smoke bombs to create a screen that the Orderlies couldn't see through. After that, his own infrared goggles on, ones high enough caliber that firefighters would use to see through a room full of smoke, he stormed into the area. Fully equipped, he opened with darts. But his gauntlets had also been charged with tasers this time. Whereas the guards may have been immune to pain, they weren't immune to having their neurotransmitters "reset". With that in mind, he was free to punch as well as fire darts as he stormed in.

The area itself was filled with stone columns and passages, and Batman moved in and around them freely. Because his opponents were using dart guns, they didn't even have the luxury of "bursts of light" from gunpowder. Soon, they were firing wildly in a vain attempt to hit him. Meanwhile, he made use of his grapple gun to shoot over the line of fire, and then dove on opponents, tackling two with one thrust and punching them with the tased gauntlets to knock them out. A moment later, he flung out two Batarangs to disarm two more on one side, and whirled around with his dart gun to knock out three others trying to find the source of the crying out. He stepped up and off of his current victims to allow his opponents to shoot the area where he was, and then fired off two more darts in their direction. Finally, having made enough "noise" to attract a trio of Orderlies, he whipped out his grapple gun and fired into the sky. As a fourth one joined them and they converged where he was, he shot to the ceiling while letting an EMP grenade fall beneath him, taking all four out in one shot.

In no time, the guards were panicking and shooting everywhere, while Batman continued to strike totally unseen. He would drop on one with his grapple gun who stood in the midst of companions, let him get out a cry, and then trick the guards into turning around and firing on each other. He would lure Orderlies into proximity of their companions and have them waist darts shooting the machine…and as soon as they paused to reload his gauntlet would come down and knock them out. They began to scream and cry out hysterically, but for all their panic and fear, it did them no good. In moments, every last one of them was done, and every last robot on their side was disabled.

As Batman punched the last one out while calmly rolling a grenade behind him to disable the last two Orderlies, he paused and looked around. His goggles had a wider range of vision than any one on the market, but no goggles provided the same range of vision as normal sight. However, there was nothing to see. He pressed a button on his gauntlet, and soon the readout changed, giving him a look of how much of the facility had been mapped so far by his sonar. To his surprise…not much. There were at least a dozen corridors leading out from this first main corridor, and they all trailed off until they were out of range. It was highly extensive…far more than any common asylum or what Batman had anticipated. Nevertheless, he was about to move on for the end, to see how much more he could get out of this first corridor…

When he heard a burst of static overhead. The sound of a PA system coming on.

An old man's voice spoke up.

_"__Hello, Batman. I know you can hear me. I've been waiting for you."_

The dark knight froze, and looked into the sky. He saw no more movement. No drones or traps in the shadows…just the voice. He couldn't tell where from. The interior of the facility looked to be stone and masonry like a dungeon…but he knew better. He was in here somewhere…

At any rate, he soon removed another device from his belt: a spammer with wireless detection. He pulled it up and soon began to adjust the frequency.

_"__I knew you would come." _The voice went on. _"I knew I couldn't keep you away forever, no matter how well I covered my tracks. The fact that I managed to even keep you out of here for a month, honestly, surprises me. But I knew you'd be here…that you'd track them down eventually. There's been nothing else on your mind since I struck Arkham, has there been? Even the thought of a peaceful Gotham City made you uneasy and uncomfortable…as if something you expected…even 'needed'…was missing…and you had to get it back no matter what, wasn't it?"_

A frequency was picked up. Very hot…coming from older cables that had to be built in the walls over areas of fake stone, similar to how the gasworks in this place was. It resonated with the words he was hearing.

Nevertheless…Batman turned up the range and kept scanning as he began to move again. He didn't go into a full run, but he was soon going at faster than a jogging pace as he continued to scan.

_"__I can see you, you know." _The voice went on. _"I can see everything here, even under the cover of darkness. I know you're looking for me. I can only say…good luck. This entire facility is a maze…rather like what Daedalus conceived…a prison as intricate as the human brain. Even I have a hard time getting around in it sometimes… But so long as you're coming for me…I wish to ask you something. Do you even know why you're here, Batman? Do you know why you tracked me so long and so far? Why you've been so desperate to save the inmates of Arkham Asylum? If you do…then by all means, enlighten me. I really want to know…"_

* * *

Harleen didn't know what she was doing. She hadn't been this nervous in years. She felt like she was a cat in a room full of rocking chairs…and that the rocking chairs were being rocked by people who had hungry bulldogs in their laps and who practiced violin making as a profession. She didn't even know what to make of herself. Natalie had done a great job disguising her. She not only found everything she needed to look like a psychiatrist of the same ilk who had walked into Arkham Asylum all those years ago, but she even found a pair of fake glasses and quickly did her hair up in a bun to complete the illusion. She had to be honest…at least the glasses helped hide the fact that she felt ready to pass out. She barely remembered anything of psychology…

_And…and…I look so…so weak…so small…so…_

_ …__Normal…_

Right now, she was under the critical gaze of one of the other psychologists who had to have been brought in… Quinzell had no idea where Labdaris dragged these guys from, but he had all the look of one of her old college professors who would rip her papers to pieces. She almost thought she had forgotten her college days…along with everything else that happened before meeting Mr. J…but she found she was remembering it now. She tried hard not to look at the rough guards on either side of him, who seemed more like Russian thugs than attendants, as well as the towering Orderly behind him. Instead, she looked to the various plexiglass walled cells on the sides of her and the patients within. They weren't as "severe" as her case…but each one was being submitted to similar tortures. Just seeing it happen made the woman nervous. Luckily…Natalie was at her side. And although her physical condition honestly made Harleen nervous…she was glad she was there to back her up.

"I didn't really read anything about you transferring here…" The psychologist said critically. "Ms…." He was clearly looking for an answer.

"…Heartly! Dr. Heartly!" Natalie suddenly spoke up. "You see, she had to fill in for some of the people who were getting sick, and-"

"I don't recall asking _you_ anything." The psychologist cut off with a tone both sharp and dismissive. He looked back to Harleen. "Surely you can speak for yourself, right?"

The woman swallowed. She couldn't believe the beads of sweat weren't visible as she plastered on a fake smile. "Uh…sure! I mean, yeah! I mean, yes sir! I mean…I'm a doctor! Yeah! No doubts there!"

The psychologist's eyes narrowed, as did those of the guards.

"I…I mean…I kind of graduated late, so…I'm kind of nervous…heh…" She continued. She couldn't believe herself. She had run directly up to cops firing bullets at her before and broke their bones. Why was she so scared now? Why did she feel so much like…like…how she was _before_?

A moment later, however, the psychologist exhaled.

"You sound American…and I understand Americans are lazy and idle, so I guess I can forgive that. But if you're really a doctor, then perhaps you can give your evaluation on Mr. Vaughn over here."

He turned and gestured to the nearest cell. Quinzell looked, and saw a man strapped down, some sort of "video player" strapped to his eyes, and electrodes giving him periodic shocks which made him cry out. Clearly being brainwashed.

"Mr. Vaughn here is a serial killer, but he also has gender issues. As you can see from how he's shaved his body and performed 'at-home' plastic surgery, he's been trying to make himself more feminine in appearance. He's been noted for murdering women he sees wearing alluring clothing…presumably to wear it himself. I say it's an open-and-shut case…just some psychotic transsexual willing to go to any means to 'look pretty', and I think his therapy should reflect the same by breaking him of these gender 'fantasies'."

For a moment, Quinzell looked nervously at him…when something in her brain clicked.

_Wait a sec…I remember this… It's…it's so textbook…_

"Maybe some drugs to counteract whatever hormone therapy he gave himself, but it might throw off his mood…" The psychologist continued. "Just sign off on it and I'll say I have a collaborator-"

"'Scuse me, doc…I mean…excuse me, doctor." Quinzell interjected. "I don't know how they do brain meds in Eastern Europe…but you're wrong."

The psychologist gave her a sharp glare. However, the woman shrugged. "There aren't any studies showing that transsexuals have higher incidence for being homicidal, psychotic, or violent. They may actually be _less_ violent than the 'common' heterosexual. At the bare minimum, I think it's a mistake to try and latch his craziness onto it."

"Oh really?" The psychologist answered, his tone clearly biting and condemnatory. "And what exactly would an 'American Psychologist' have to say about that?"

In spite of her fear and weak state…Quinzell felt challenged by that. She actually drew herself up a bit more…and spoke a bit less "childishly" and more "adult".

"First off…I'd say that you should give a second look at his background. I'm willing to bet a hundred bucks he came from an isolated household with very little adult or parental contact. Solitary. Somewhere where he wouldn't be able to sample what it meant to have 'identity', gender or otherwise. Second, I'd say his upbringing probably involved abuse, particularly in making any decisions for himself or attraction to the opposite sex. Being beaten for doing things 'boys do' when they get attracted to girls. As a result, he didn't form an identity for himself growing up and thought it was wrong to be physically attracted to women. So he thought his attraction was purely for the 'trappings' of womanhood, of what attractive women looked like and did. This led him to _think_ he was a transsexual and therefore needed to change his body accordingly. He's probably been to other doctors and LGBT alliances who've told him he wasn't, and that made him angry. So he went out and victimized women out of envy and tried to 'emulate them'. That makes this entire case one of envy over identity, not gender confusion."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Third…I've worked just as hard as you to get to be a psychologist, doctor. So I don't think it's too much to ask for a little respect for it and for my colleague here, got it?"

The psychologist was silent. His face was agape, unable to say or do anything. Harleen herself looked bold on the outside…but her heart was beating a mile a minute and she felt like there were ants under her skin. She thought she'd pass out at any moment. Even Natalie was nearly open-mouthed.

But after a time, the man relaxed.

"…Well, Dr. Heartly…I have to admit, you make good points." He said more quietly. "I'll look over his case again before progressing further with therapy. Good day."

He turned and began to walk on, taking the guards and the Orderly with him. As he left, Natalie looked to Harleen with an eager smile and a grin, making sure no one else in the room could see. As for the woman herself, she slowly calmed down, and only apoplectically began to walk again.

_What…what the hell…was that?!_

_I don't know…_

_But…it felt kind of good…_

* * *

Not risking an ambush, the four guards patrolling the corridor flushed themselves against the wall, prods out and already electrified, and sent the two Orderlies with them ahead. They watched and waited safely around the corner, expecting either some noise or signal of something going on, and ready to strike the moment anything came around the corner that wasn't an Orderly. Sure enough, they heard a burst of static a moment later, and expected it was another one of his EMP grenades. They braced themselves for a fight, waiting for him to come around…

Instead, they saw the form of an Orderly begin to walk around the corner. Seeing that made them pause. One of the machines was coming back? Too late did they realize it was the man himself "walking" one of the Orderlies back and using it as a shield. A bat-gauntleted hand snapped out a moment later and fired off a pair of darts into the lead two men, knocking them out instantly. The other two reacted in surprise, but then barreled straight for the Orderly and the man behind.

Batman was more than ready for them. Putting his dart gun away, he sprung out and advanced. As the first neared and reared back his prod to hit, he lashed out forward and elbowed him in the gut before punching him in the throat with a charged gauntlet. The "stop hit" kept the man from advancing anymore, and he quickly collapsed. The other man advanced more slowly, but he did no better as a foot shot out and smashed him in the face…also to the tune of a jolt of electricity. Apparently, he had tasers in those as well. As the two went down and joined their companions, Batman quickly went by, going for his spammer again. He soon pulled it out and gave it another reading.

As he suspected…while one signal was definitely the biggest and "hottest"…he detected a second one further ahead.

With that I mind, he adjusted a control on the spammer, opening an electromagnetic "pod" function on it similar to those used by electronic warfare weapons in the military. A moment later, it began to put out a counter-signal…jamming whatever equipment was around him from monitoring him. He assumed most of the cameras had to be wireless, in spite of the stone interior. It was the only way they could keep themselves from being visible through wires. After that, he keyed in on the new frequency and began to trace it, transmitting it to his head visor…

The voice continued.

_"__Tell me…do you know what the _real_ definition of insanity is, sir? It's doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Take a good look at yourself, Batman…and then look at me. Which one of us can you say was 'insane'? I know those doctors at Arkham were. I know just like I knew the doctors in Latvia and Russia were. They got no results…because they weren't willing to do what was necessary. There haven't been massive breakthroughs in psychology for a while for a good reason, Batman. It's because all of the major breakthroughs stopped when they started worrying about the subjects they were testing. But there _are_ 'nuggets of gold' to be gleaned from those who are willing to take the extra step. And _I _did._

_ "__You think I'm a monster…when the truth of the matter is I was the only one who really ever wanted to see these men and women 'well'. Those doctors didn't…and you didn't either. You all didn't because you weren't willing to do whatever was necessary. _I _was. I wanted to see these people cured. I wanted to see your city, not even in my native country, safe. I was willing to do anything and everything it took to make that happen. And for that…you brand me a monster. Tell me…which one of us is truly 'mad'?"_

* * *

Edward Nigma had to stop. He was still infected…the virus making him weak. He had been treated not too long ago but he knew he only had two more hours before the pain returned. To his displeasure…he hoped that Nathan actually had accounted for that in this plan he had given him. At any rate, the cells that were unused were wide open. Likely to make sure an escapee wouldn't hide in them. With that in mind, he crawled into the nearest one and put his back to the wall. He took some deep breaths and relaxed. He needed his focus for this last part… Two more turns and it would be a straight shot…

Yet his mind continued to run.

_Who could have done it? I can almost remember who gave me my meal that night…but that's irrelevant. It could have been any one of his toadies… He got the drugs in my food. Alright…so it may not have even been whoever brought me my food. It could have been in the kitchen. That would be easier…wouldn't it?_

_I don't know…I don't know…but it's driving me crazy… I have to know who it was! I have to solve this mystery! If I do…I'll prove that I was smarter all along! For all the insults! All the torture! I'll prove him wrong! I'll prove my intellect! Damnit…I have to!_

To accent this, he made a fist and swung it against the wide-open metal door…and, to his shock, it made a loud clang.

Up the hall, around the turn, he heard a voice. "What was that?"

"It wasn't a rat, that's for sure…" Another answered.

Soon, footsteps began to approach. Edward went pale. He couldn't believe what he had just done… All of the insults began to resound in his head. All of the times he had been called foolish and stupid… He had just justified them. He was in the clear, and thanks to his 'craziness', he had blown his cover. The escape attempt was for nothing. He'd never get out of here now… He'd go back to his cell…and if he wasn't killed he'd be accused of being an idiot and a moron again and again…

Suddenly, one set of footsteps stopped. The other soon followed.

"What's wrong?"

"Someone's calling in from the helicopter bay. They say they hear something in the cabinets. They think someone's hiding in them."

There was a momentary pause. "…Isn't anyone else nearby?"

"We're closest."

Another pause. "…Fine. Let's check it out quick and head back."

Soon after, the footsteps went out again, this time away from Nigma and back down the hall. The man blinked and looked up for a moment, before he exhaled. He knew what that was without even thinking about it. No doubt…the "helicopter bay" was where he was headed. Nathan had to be there. And just now…he had saved him again. He wasn't sure how he knew about it. Perhaps he didn't…only knew those men would be there and so he had given them a distraction and the man a chance. Yet again…it had come from someone besides him. A situation he couldn't think outside of…and had subjected himself to. Another "failure" on his part…

And yet, in spite of how bad it felt…he thought more of his survival. More of the need to get out of this "hell". More of the need to find a cure. Weren't those things more important? More important than being the "smartest"? More important even than finding out who had done this to him?

He didn't know…and had no time to think about it. He had blown one opportunity. He got up and ran out before he blew this one as well.

* * *

Batman swept his cape in front of him, intercepting one of the darts, before darting forward and smashing the man in the face. The taser wasn't fully charged, but it was enough to stun him long enough to pull a dart from his belt and jab it into him, knocking him out and dropping him. Speed was important now. He didn't want who was responsible seeing him coming, either directly or by radio from one of the guards. He still hadn't seen any of the Arkham Inmates yet, even as he went down lower and lower tracing the signal, but he didn't mind that. He just had to find Labdaris first…

With that in mind, he took off down the nearest set of stairs, leaving another pile of guards behind him.

_"__What happens when a child needs a vaccine, Batman? They yell. They scream. They cry. They ignore your calls of 'it won't hurt', which you only say because you know full well it _will_ hurt but you lie in order to keep your child from freaking out. And why? Because they _need_ the shot. Now…people like those over in the asylum, well…to them, it's like seeing a person riddled with rabies, but rather than administer the vaccine while they still have time, they're too afraid of hurting the patient. It doesn't matter to them that the man is diseased, sick, on the point of death, and a threat to himself and others… They can't bear 'forcing' anything on him, even for his own good. _

_ "__People decide who lives and who dies every day, sir. Governments deciding where to send food and relief aid as well as military men… Commanders deciding where to risk their troops… Businesses who get cheap labor overseas… Parents wondering whether or not they short abort a child whose delivery might kill them… Cops wondering whether or not to risk a hostage's life by taking a shot… If a noble, decent, and awarded police officer who had a family of three and a hardened gang member, murderer, thug, and rapist were wheeled into an ER, both shot, both on the point of death…there would be those who would moan and complain if the doctor elected to operate on the police officer first, but even if the entire world said that the gang member deserved life over the officer…in the end, the world would be, quite simply, a better place for letting the officer live. It's not a question of morality, sir…it's a cold, hard _fact_. It's a fact that people like you and your society try to overlook. You don't want to do what is necessary to protect good and punish evil…you want to do what helps you 'sleep at night'. What makes you feel 'all warm and fuzzy inside'. And you don't care how much evil or death occurs as a result of it…so long as the blood isn't directly on your hands. Just on the hands of those who are here by your actions or lack thereof._

_ "__Do you ever stop and think about how many people you've _murdered_ by not killing these men and women long ago, Batman?"_

* * *

Joseph, clearly frightened and anxious, followed behind Harvey Dent as he proceeded. The kid was shaking all over like a leaf. He looked like any moment some monster would jump out of the shadows and eat him alive. Dent had no idea how he had gotten himself in this mess…yet even now he couldn't feel "disgust" for the kid. Rather, in spite of the seriousness of the situation, he felt a sense of "accomplishment".

When was the last time he had actually helped someone? And not in one of those traditional criminal "you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours" manners…actually done something like this? He knew this kid would never get out of here alive on his own. He hadn't the strength. He hadn't the guts. A part of him wanted to tell Joseph to start "growing some balls" and sink or swim. After all, now wasn't the time to be a coward. Now was the time to live or die. To either whine and cringe or fight for your life. And yet, a part of him still felt sympathy. He knew what it was like to feel helpless…weak…frustrated. Especially frustrated…that you did everything "by the book" your whole life and then woke up one day to realize that those who "broke all the rules" won as many times as they lost. When the whole system of "law" and "justice" you upheld all these years just seemed to be a mockery. When that blind statue no longer held a scale but flipped a coin…

And, after the past few weeks…he realized a part of him hated that day. Even if he disagreed…a part of him wished his face had never been burnt off so he could keep living that delusion. After all…ignorance was bliss, right?

He heard a sound of gears, and suddenly an Orderly stepped out down the hall. Joseph nearly cried out. Harvey, on the other hand, raised the weapon. He had no idea where they were keeping these large firearms, but he didn't really care so long as they had enough pop to rip through the machine's padding. He didn't go for the head, but rather opened fire in the chest. It seemed "what they lacked in brains they made up for with heart", and soon he blew away the CPU in the chest. It went down with one shot.

He pulled the gun back and looked to Joseph. "Come on." He stated a bit sharply, before turning forward and moving again. Joseph swallowed, and then soon began to follow.

In no time, they came to a fork in the path. Harvey was feeling more and more "himself" after getting the injection. His strength was coming back a little, and his mind was clearer…but still he found himself hesitating. He looked to one side and then the other, and finally sighed as he reached for his pocket. A moment later, he came out with the coin and gave it a flip. It landed…tails again. He soon headed to the right.

"M…Mr. Dent…"

The voice was so quiet that Harvey ignored it. He kept walking down the hall, keeping his eyes open for more Orderlies. All he saw was another mangled body…

"Mr...Mr. Dent…?"

Sighing, he stopped and looked back. "What is it, kid?"

Joseph, cringing a bit and swallowing, pointed back the way they came. "The…the helicopter docking bay was the other way…"

Harvey glared at him a moment, his "bad eye" flaring a bit. "…And why the hell didn't you say that before I got out my coin?" He snapped.

"I'm sorry, sir! I'm sorry!" Joseph said as he recoiled. "I…I just got scared…"

"Grow up!" He snapped back. "You're like a damn rabbit! Well guess what? This world is full of wolves that eat rabbits like you for breakfast! Show some damn guts! Grow a spine!"

"I'm sorry!" He apologized again. "I…I just…it's just you look like you know what you're doing! Like you have everything in control! I just wanted to let you 'handle it'…"

"Is that what you plan to do with the rest of your life?" Dent shouted back as he began to walk past Joseph back to the break. "Just 'let other people tell you what to do'? Can't you think for yourself?"

Joseph was silent as he began to walk after the man from behind. However, after following only a few steps, he looked up.

"Well…how is 'flipping a coin' any better than that?" He ventured. "At least I'm following you…and I know you know better than me."

"…I'd watch your mouth, kid." Dent darkly answered.

The attendant swallowed, and quickly cringed again.

Yet as Harvey rounded the corner…he thought about that again. Thought about it in relation to everything else. He tended to think of chance as simply being "random", "neutral", "indivisible"…and "fair". Something a lot higher and more "powerful" than any "god", that was for sure. Something that didn't show so much regard for favoritism or tried to pretend there were imaginary things like "right" or "wrong". And yet…the fact of the matter was it didn't always seem absolute. It wasn't "chance" that had determined whether or not he had gotten this far. It boiled down to what he had decided. They hadn't given him food or water because he let fate decided…but because he made his own decision.

Was "chance" really any more of a foolish thing to believe in than a "god"?

* * *

_"__You see people die from clouds of plant poison…and you put a woman in jail. You see men, women, and children turned into grotesque works of art…and you put a man in jail. You see one horribly twisted grin after another…and you put a man in jail. You see eight psychopaths kidnapped…ones who you know full well will escape and kill again if you let them free…just as they have always done and always will…and you devote your life to tracking them down and bringing them back. Why? Why do you want them back in Gotham City so badly if you profess to hate what they do? Do you _need_ them? Or have you grown so accustomed to stopping them that you don't know anything else?_

_ "__The truth is, Batman…_you_ murdered every last one of their victims the day you realized they were never going to get better…yet you captured them anyway. Every innocent babe…every upstanding officer…even every thug they killed for 'sport' when they got bored after hiring them…every last drop of blood is on your conscience. You're a sickening hypocrite, sir. The way you don't want any of the blood of the unrighteous on your hands…but you're willing to shed gallons of the righteous through your inaction. I won't say you're evil…I'll say you're a child. An infant. One who prefers milk to solid food, for you crave what is pleasing and readily available over what is hard and necessary for maturity. The question of the 'morality' of keeping these men and women alive was decided years ago…any debate ended on it. And yet…you let them live. How many more people are you as good as shooting in the head by bringing them back to Gotham City? How many children will you leave fatherless and motherless? How many parents will you rob of their offspring?_

_ "__And yet…you think _I'm_ the monster even now."_

* * *

The ceiling down the hall behind Pamela rumbled. She didn't risk looking back…and a good thing too. As she staggered onward, the ceiling broke and sent a deluge of stone masonry and supports down, along with tons of dirt…severing off the passage she had come and casting up flaming ash behind her. She narrowly managed to dodge it, but even so the onrush of smoke made her dizzy. Staggering forward with renewed vigor, she rushed for the back as fast as she could, coughing more loudly as she did so. She felt weak and sick, but she had to press on. She soon turned a corner…

And saw nothing but flames on every side.

Another eruption sounded overhead…and the area rumbled as more debris fell somewhere else.

_This whole place is underground… _Isley realized. _Maybe it's on a natural gas well… If it is…then this whole facility could be buried at any moment…and bury me with it…_

The woman lowered to the ground, where the air was still "clear". She could filter out smoke, but her lungs were already "working overtime". She gasped in a few deep breaths, and then rose and took off down the flaming corridor. The ground began to shake, but she forced herself to run as more pieces of ceiling fell down, and raging fires erupted from the pipes in the wall. She felt herself nearly get singed as she rushed past, the fires rapidly expanding to the ceiling and the floor. Yet in spite of all of this…she looked around as she burst through the flaming corridor. All she saw, however, was a body or two already half burned away…impossible to identify.

_What are you doing? _She told herself. _Stop focusing on them! They tortured you and tormented you! You need to get to the plant!_

However, as she managed to burst out of that corridor, and leaned against a bit of cold stone, sighing and relaxing a moment…Pamela knew she wasn't looking for any guard. They could burn along with Labdaris for all she cared. She was looking, she realized…for Catherine. In spite of all of her thoughts to the contrary, in spite of her very nature telling her that the woman meant nothing to her and was just another voracious animal killing her children and loved ones…she didn't want her to die. She honestly, truly didn't want her to die. Whether it was out of obligation for what she had done for her or something more was unknown…but she found herself wishing, in her heart of hearts, that the woman wasn't among the dead. Truth be told…she hadn't heard anyone scream for a long time… However, _she_ was still alive…and that meant others had to be alive…

_Right?_

Isley shook her head. She couldn't afford to waste much more time. At this rate, it would be all she could do to reach her babies and tell them to get to the surface. She was weakening from the smoke and heat and her already feeble state. And she wasn't even sure if she could make them "push to the surface". Not in this poor soil. And even if she could…if it was really icy tundra out there… What she really needed to do was take them to safety, but she wasn't sure if she could…

_Yet at least I can die trying to save them…not waiting to burn or be crushed…_

Pulling herself off the wall, she looked ahead and rushed into another smoke-filled corridor…bursting with more flame.

* * *

_"__What have I done that was so wrong, Batman? You needed those criminals out of Gotham City…I removed them. You needed them cured…I devoted all of my energy and knowledge to it. You needed them stopped for good to keep from hurting anyone else…I was committed to killing them if need be. I'm not a monster, Batman…I'm the city's savior. I put an end to the madness. I drew a line that they couldn't cross. All of you had let your lack of pragmatism elevate these men and women into 'god-like' status. You let it change them into specters who couldn't be killed. I introduced both to your city and to them how mortal they are. How flesh and blood they are. They thought they were immortal from all of your treatment of them…I showed them they're human. I taught them to fear punishment…to _fear_. I accomplished in a few weeks what you couldn't do in years. What your methods led to…one shattered life after another. How many allies have suffered from your inaction, Batman? How long as your city been a cesspool? And yet…you dare come in here trying to stop me. _

_ "_I _am the hero of Gotham City, Batman…not you. I made a difference. A _lasting_ difference. Where would the city be if you had died before this began? Right where it always was. Where is the city now because of _me_? In a happier place. Your doctors…your law officers…every last person who wants a future of security should follow _my_ lead. Should take up a knife or a gun and make a stand…that they have had enough. Enough of your misplaced justice…enough of your skewed morality…and want to put this to an end."_

* * *

Crane had to feel his way along before going far. He continued to hear clamor up and down various halls, but he could see nothing. Not even the glimmer of pilot lights. Even they had seemed to die out. If so…then he was kind of glad he _didn't_ see any light. Without the pilots, there was a chance natural gas was leaking into the chamber he was walking through. At any rate, he was familiar with 'moving in the dark'. He used to put night vision goggles into his various scarecrow masks…but the "hum" of electronics not only gave him away, it also helped convey the idea that he was not really a nightmarish scarecrow but just a man in a disguise. So instead he had learned to echolocate. Obviously, a bat or moth was much better at it, but he had a keen ear for when his footsteps or contact caused an echo that gave him an idea of his surroundings. Enough to know his way around better than most people.

Suddenly, he heard gunshots from upstairs. Very fast, very rapid…signature 'double taps'. He stopped where he was and looked up. It seemed as if there _was_ a fight of some sorts going on. Perhaps it was those men he had run into earlier. Another double-tap went out…following by yelling of deaths spasms. Someone had just gotten shot.

Light flickered far behind him.

A foreign language was shouted out, but it sounded, based on the nature, like ordering someone to come that way.

Hearing this, Crane quickly felt along for the nearest side chamber and slipped into it, pressing himself against the wall. Moments later, a beam of light came by and shone down the passage…obviously from a flashlight…and soon after a team of people ran by. Guards, each one armed with their basic weaponry for controlling patients rather than guns. They went on by, and so did the light. Soon both faded, and Jonathan was left behind.

He exhaled a bit. To be honest…the feeling of fear was 'good'. He had thought he was immune…but it seemed the therapy had 'cured' him of it. And here he thought he couldn't feel fear for anything, even bats, without the aid of his fear toxin. In that sense, he was indebted to Labdaris. To feel fear was to exist…just as to exist was to feel fear. He was just a shell of a man if he couldn't feel fear himself. And, to be honest, the more 'fear' he caused in others…the more he deadened his own sensation to it. Perhaps exposure to his own fear toxin had done it…perhaps his own modus operandi…but whatever the reason, he had become dead to fear and it was a result of his "career choice"… And as a result…he felt as if he was "dead" inside…

Yet now, weak, trembling, sick, and fumbling through the dark with his heart racing…he felt more "alive" than ever.

_I'd almost want to thank Labdaris… I'll have to keep his therapy techniques in mind in the future…_

He nearly stepped out…and snapped back a moment later as he heard gunshots ring out overhead. They weren't too far…only a few hundred feet and maybe right above the ceiling. No doubt, whoever had just run by had met their end. With that in mind, Crane stayed still for a bit. Perhaps he shouldn't venture out just yet. He had no idea who was running in 'shooting first and asking questions later', but simply running out in a situation like this was tantamount to suicide. For all he knew, whoever was shooting _did_ have night vision goggles. They had taken the precaution of cutting the power, after all.

Suddenly, he heard a noise. It was farther away than the gunshots he had just heard, and was off to his right, but in spite of being faint, he heard it just the same.

A weak, fearful voice…crying for help.

He turned his head to it. For a moment, he thought he had imagined it. Yet a second later it rang out again, clearly the sound of someone calling. And now that he was focused on it, it definitely sounded scared. It wasn't the "tough-sounding" voices of the guards. It was of a more innocent, weak voice…one that Jonathan thought he had heard before.

_Could it be…?_

At any rate, he soon found himself leaning off the wall and beginning to head in the direction of the voice. Somewhat sounding terrified…and why not? Gunshots going off. Power gone. Comrades dying left and right. And now they were here…lost in the dark with the rats, bugs, and madmen. Anything could be down here. And it was such a maze, if you couldn't find your way out…you'd wander the dark until you died…

For some reason, the thought of it…the thought of that man's fear…wasn't making Crane grin as he expected. And to be honest, although he was walking toward that voice crying for help…he wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do when he got there. Before, he knew exactly what…back before all this had begun… He was going to see if he could make this man have a heart attack or, at minimum, bash their own heads in with the masonry with some skillful wordplay… But now…why _was_ he headed that way?

* * *

"Yes, I hurt…maim…and kill…but I do so with _purpose_. With meaning. I know exactly what I'm about and why I do the things I do. Even the evil and wickedness I commit is not without purpose. But what of you, sir? What do you stand for? Do you even know? Can you tell me? I'm all ears, and the floor is yours-"

Abruptly, the door clicked.

At once, the masked and cloaked woman stopped talking into the combination loudspeaker/voice-synthesizer, which had distorted every word she said, as it had with the inmates before, to sound like an old man. Instead, in a snap, she reached down and seized a handmade remote, pieced together custom from parts that had been acquired both on the black market and conventional electronics stores, and put her hand down on a button, depressing it and holding it. She looked up a moment later as she felt a rush of air into the control room she was "holed up" inside…every wall lined with monitors supervising the remaining six patients.

Batman saw the remote in the figure's hand the moment he tore open the door. He didn't know what it was…but he knew immediately it had to be a 'trump card'. As he stepped over the threshold into this room, he saw the various monitors in operation all around him, clearly watching every nook and cranny of Sheol, but he didn't look at any of them. His eyes were fully ahead on the cloaked figure with his back to him. He had come in just in time to catch her last word…and with the door open outside, he easily heard that it was her who was speaking…just as he had assumed.

The first signal he traced had been a "red herring"…no doubt passed to a relay which sent it throughout the rest of the facility. The true signal had been coming from here. Obviously, the cloaked woman had been trying to delay him…get him going on a wild goose chase while she finished whatever she had planned. However, he had seen through it…just as Oracle's notes had helped him see through the final deception.

"That's enough…" He stated coldly. "…Sophia."

The figure visibly stiffened for a moment, showing surprise. However…it was only a moment. It relaxed soon after…and he heard just a ghost of a chuckle. One of the gloved hands went up and brushed back the hood, revealing smooth brown hair. A moment later, the figure turned fully around, facing Batman directly and holding up the remote clearly. When that happened, the hand went up and removed the mask.

She didn't look "innocent and sweet" anymore. Any trace of the "fairy princess" was gone. The eyes were mature…narrow…cunning like a viper's. The smile on her face was sly and seductive. Even the lines on her face seemed deeper…harder…darker…

But there was little mistaking who it was.

Sophia Layton.

"…'Sophia' is _her_ name." The woman stated. "I prefer the name Sofjia. Helps to keep us 'distinct'." She reached up her free hand and brushed some of her hair back. "Tell me, Batman…how long have you known? Did Sophia 'talk in her sleep' during her fever dreams? Or before that?"

Batman kept his gaze narrow as he drew himself up, glaring hard at her.

"…I suspected it before we even met; the moment I went into your apartment. Two books were standing out. One was that book on virology. You only ever mentioned being a registered nurse. Virology isn't a required course or even a standard elective for Nursing School at Gotham University…but I knew that whoever had captured the inmates obviously knew a lot about virology. The other was the Latvian acting magazine. You had been out of Latvia for a while…but that magazine was only four months old."

"Sofjia" smiled a bit more, shaking her head. "…And after I told Sophia to put that up and away. A smart man like you can pick up on any clue, after all. You have no idea how hard it is to try and find a struggling actor desperate for money who nevertheless is 'good enough' and willing to go along with such a thing. I mean…what exactly do you say to him? 'Hello…would you be willing to pretend to be an old, sadistic doctor for anywhere from a few weeks to a few months? Working with actual madmen? I'll pay you 100,000 euros.' Thank god for starving actors willing to do anything for enough money… Anyway…so why didn't you bust me right then and there?"

"Doing so would solve nothing." Batman went on. "I needed you to lead me here. So I followed you to Latvia."

"You followed _Sophia_ to Latvia."

Ignoring that, he went on. "Then you got stuck with the dart. I thought you were faking, to be honest. However, your fever was real. So were your swollen lymph nodes, your chills, your vomiting, and everything else. I analyzed you extensively to the best of my medical knowledge the first few days. You seemed to be honestly seriously ill."

"That's because Sophia _was_ 'seriously ill'." Sofjia answered. "So sorry…but she had to be an unwilling participant. Don't feel bad taking care of her, sir. Rest assured…without you nursing her, she would most certainly have died out there…and so would I."

"…Which I began to suspect, and I figured that was too 'extreme'. That it couldn't be you. I considered that you might have been using a proxy or 'stand-in' until then…but if you died there'd be no further instructions."

"True. But you…you're as predictable as they are. I knew you wouldn't let Sophia die."

"You took a risk."

"And I risked her life as well as mine. But I was willing to go with it. They had enough instructions here to carry on without me for up to three months of therapy if need be, and I gave them 'final' instructions right within that very cab that you tailed me in within Riga. After that I 'went to sleep' for the next few weeks and let Sophia handle things. As for Red Robin...I wouldn't worry about him. The young man could barely keep his eyes open when we were in a safe, dark room with some comfy furnishings. He fell asleep...and I 'woke up' and snuck out. A small matter of calling one of the men here to pick me up in that helicopter that attacked you and Sophia, then 'beating you here' by several hours on a straight flight. Anyway…so I managed to clear your suspicions. Whatever changed your mind?"

"An old lead. I began to think you might try to implicate your 'mother'…as you had been silent about her until now. So I had Oracle look her up. Records were sparse, to be sure…but Oracle can find lots of scraps that have been left behind. She managed to hack into a disabled but not fully deleted personal records database from the Soviet Union. Your mother died during childbirth."

His eyes narrowed.

"…But I'm starting to realize that story about 'Polunocnica' was not entirely false."

Sofjia stared for a bit longer, and then smiled more. She took a deep breath and exhaled as she looked to the sky.

"…I had a bad case of the flu when I was five years old. Father didn't trust me alone or with the nanny. He knew there were great medical doctors at his facility. So he brought me there… Walking in, I saw every last one of those tortured patients, writhing like they were chained in Hell. At night, all I heard was their shouting and screaming. I was terrified…so very terrified…of every last bit of it. When I left that facility…I was a changed girl. I saw them whenever I closed my eyes. I heard them whenever I tried to sleep. Nightmare after nightmare…

"When I went to school, it wasn't long before I was the 'odd one out'. Years later I was still terrified. Still affected. I would sit quietly in corners. I would play by myself in the schoolyard. I would sit in the back corner. I would draw pictures of death and screaming psychopaths and be sent to the principal. And, of course, I was mocked. 'There's the freak girl'. 'Look at that bastard that the crazy doctor had'. 'I heard a crazy woman in the asylum gave birth to her and he's raising her like his daughter'. Dead animals left in my desk and lunch box… Rotten bird eggs thrown at me… I didn't mind all that so much…"

She began to frown.

"…I wasn't angry…I was _jealous_. I saw other girls drawing pictures of rabbits and unicorns. I saw them laughing and playing. I saw them smiling and happy…without a care in the world. And as I got older and more shunned and hated, still seeing the same nightmares, still hearing the same screams…I saw them so happy and carefree. I saw them run into the arms of young boyfriends and their loving parents. Me? I couldn't stand the sight of my father after that week. I was scared of everything. I couldn't sleep. And I wondered…why? Why did I have to suffer like this? Why couldn't I be like them? Why couldn't I be happy and carefree? Why did everything sweet and good about childhood turn to sour ash in my mouth? Why did I no longer enjoy the warmth of the sun or their love of parents? And I grew jealous…then hateful…then angry… I began to despise not only those women but any child I saw. Every smile on their face…every hop and skip…every little tea party or play time…it was a slap in my face and a mockery. I began to think children were sickening…so disgustingly innocent…so revoltingly pure…not knowing anything about life…about horror…about terror… I wanted to make them feel what I felt…I wanted them to endure what I endured…I wanted them to know what it was like to dwell in a living nightmare you couldn't wake up from…"

By now, her jaw was tightening…her eyes burning…but then she closed her eyes, exhaled, and then opened them again. A soft smile was on her face again as she shrugged.

"Well…the rest is history. I could go into detail about what exactly I did to some of my victims…but the truth is…it unsettles me too now. Attacking other human beings, that is. It didn't at the time, though. I can't believe, out of all the people who could have caught me, it was father who did it. He and his old KGB thug accomplices. I still remember the look on his face when he pulled off my mask. The horror… At the time, I grinned like the devil at him. I told him to 'give his sweet baby girl a kiss'."

Sofjia shuddered a bit here, bowing her head a little and bringing her free arm around her chest.

"…I know better now. My father did what he could. He was desperate to fight evil…to cure it…and he was willing to do whatever was necessary. He didn't know what happened to me. He didn't suspect how much it had hurt me. And could he? When he was struggling so much trying to fend off the Soviets and his old, angry patients… He didn't have time to wonder about why his little girl was having so many nightmares… But that look on his face…he knew now. He knew what had happened to me. He knew that the last legacy of his was to create a monster rather than rid the world of them. And I didn't care. I only wanted to drink more of his pain…for I had developed a hunger for it. And he…he only had one desire left. To undo his greatest mistake."

She exhaled. "…The men and women here thought their therapy was so terrible… _I _endured mine for nine months. Slowly, he broke me of my bloodlust…taught me empathy…showed me how flawed my thinking was…forced me to embrace the pain and fear that that week had given me. And, slowly…he helped me to get over it…to stop seeing children as objects to mutilate and see them as human beings… It was essentially 'advanced brainwashing', yes…but it worked. I began to become the 'old Sofjia' again. Even _better_…for now I smiled. Now I wasn't afraid of the sun or seeing laughter anymore…"

She hesitated, and then sighed.

"But…I wasn't what father 'had in mind'. You see, he had a delusion that I was his sweet, innocent little girl. _That_ was who he wanted… a fake woman who never existed. So he subjected me to another round of therapy even worse than the first with greater brainwashing and behavior modification…trying to 'transform me' into someone new. And for a while…I thought he had. I thought _I _had faded…and my little sister, who was born from that therapy, had taken over. But no…she merely became 'fully dominant' for a while, while I…well…I just 'went to sleep' for a year or two."

"Sophia." Batman answered.

Sofjia looked up and smiled. "…Want to talk to her? I'll wake her up for you. Just a moment."

The dark-looking woman closed her eyes…and a change came over her. Her "dark lines" seemed to smooth. Her maturity "lessened". Her features grew softer and looser. After a moment, her eyes opened…and were totally innocent again. Batman was clearly looking at the woman he had been with for weeks. She blinked a few times, and then looked around fearfully.

"Where…where am I? I…"

She looked forward…and saw Batman staring darkly at her. She looked to the monitors…and swallowed. After that, she looked down to her clothing, and let out a gasp.

"This…this is…hers…"

He looked up soon after again to Batman. She swallowed, and began to tremble.

"I'm…I'm sorry, Batman. I can't ask you to forgive me…and I won't…but please…"

"You lied to me." He flatly stated.

The woman pulled her arm around herself as she began to tear. "I was scared…so scared… She…she's the stronger one of us… She always was… She was ever since I met her in Gotham City… I was just walking to the bathroom to brush my teeth…and there she was looking out the mirror at me. I…I had no idea who she was… I tried to tell her to go away…but she yelled at me…told me that _I _was the one who 'shouldn't be here'…and that she needed my help. She needed me to help finish my father's work…to make sure what he did to create me wouldn't be for nothing. And…and I _love_ my father, Batman. I had to help him…help his memory… And so I asked what she wanted. And she said whenever she heard me calling, I just had to be willing to 'go to sleep' until she woke me up. I didn't know what that meant, but soon after, when I was sitting around reading, she told me: 'Sophia…go to sleep now'. So I did…and…then I woke up a bit later and I saw three hours had passed. That happened a while…but then finally the inmates vanished.

"I knew she was behind it…but said it was for our father. So even when you came by, even when she kept telling me to sleep every now and then, I thought it was for the best. But then you started telling me things…things only Sofjia knew and I didn't know about my father…and I started getting scared. I wanted to go to Latvia and find what she was doing, see if she was doing what I feared. But you wanted to come…and I was scared about what would happen. I was scared you'd ruin my father's memory. So I let you come… But when I found out about everything…I realized what she had to be doing. When I finally woke up from my illness, I tried to be 'quiet'. You see…I don't know what she does all the time, but she knows what _I _do most of the time. So I told you that story, and I thought really hard about it being my mother instead of her…and I thought it would work… And I wanted to stay behind, thinking it would be enough…but…but…"

She swallowed, and began to cry.

"Batman, I don't know what this thing in my hand does! I don't know why I'm holding the trigger and why I'm afraid to let it go! But please…stop her! I never wanted this! I swear I never wanted this! Please believe me! Please!"

Suddenly, she spasmed.

"No! I don't want to go back to sleep! Leave me alone!"

She winced, and began to cringe.

"Stop yelling at me! You said you're my older sister! Older sisters don't yell!"

Batman reacted to this. He nearly advanced, but before he could, Sophia suddenly went rigid…stiffened a moment…and then relaxed. Soon, she looked more mature and "dark" again…but also had a look of remorse on her face.

"…I really hate forcing Sophia to 'go to bed' like that. Hopefully, this will be the last time." Sofjia spoke a moment later. A small smile appeared on her face. "In spite of the fact that I didn't like that she 'supplanted' me at first...I've come around. She's a sweet child…everything my father always wanted in me. But…she's just a child. She cuddles with stuffed animals, for crying out loud. She only sees 'good' in everyone…including me. The world could use more people like her…which is why I'll 'go to sleep for good' soon and let her have this body. To be honest…I had such pleasant dreams when Sophia 'called the shots'. It made me a little sick at first…but then I realized I felt as warm and happy as I always wanted to when I was a child. I could feel all of her love and joy in my thoughts. I felt so safe and warm inside her…that I never wanted to wake up…"

Her smile faded.

"…But I had to. After all…Sophia was the one who had to endure all of the suspicion of the reporters and the authorities trying to find 'Polunocnica'. Saw them hounding our father day and night. Saw them never give him a moment's peace…" She paused. "…Who was the one who opened the door to his closet and found him with the belt around his neck hanging from the ceiling, that note taped to him. I immediately covered her eyes and yelled 'Go to bed!'…kept her from seeing any of the horror. A girl like that…so innocent…so pure…she deserves to be protected from horror, Batman. Innocence is such a fragile thing…and it must be guarded like the treasure it is. So…it was just me who was left there with my father. It was me reading his note…seeing how he had failed…seeing how his work had been invalidated…seeing himself as nothing but a failure to the world and to me…

"He didn't deserve that. He made mistakes…but did Oppenheimer hang himself for building the A-bomb? Or Nobel for inventing dynamite? They changed the world even if there were some 'horrors' attached. I had to preserve his legacy. I had to give him a future. So…while Sophia was sleeping…I gently whispered to her that she'd be happy studying in the USA…in the place where the 'worst of the worst' were…Gotham City…and that the inmates inside could use her sunny personality and kindness. After that, I went to sleep and waited. And…well…the rest is history. As for all of this…" She gestured around herself. "Well…it wasn't just for my father's methods that the Soviets and, later, the Russians hated him. He managed to appropriate a large amount of their money from them. Between that and volunteers, I was able to carry this all out. And yes…I am a bit of a prodigy when it comes to virology." She exhaled.

"…And that, Batman, brings us to the present."

The dark knight stood impassive. "…Your father failed. You're still a sociopath."

Sofjia's teeth clenched as her anger flared. "How dare you. Do you see me stringing up any children and their families for fun? I may be a killer, Batman…but I'm perfectly sane now. I don't hurt people anymore. I hurt _subcreatures._ And I do so for a reason. I may still have some of my 'old skills' from when I was Polunocnica, but I'm cured."

"I've heard enough." Batman stated. "Where are the inmates from Arkham?"

"Ah yes…" The woman sneered. "The only thing you _really_ seem to care about. Well…I've got something to reveal to you. You're down to only six individuals to take back to Gotham City, Batman. Well…"

She smiled a bit.

"…Five and a half. Look to your left. Don't worry…I won't try anything."

Batman froze a moment. His gaze had been totally on Sofjia since he entered, expecting her to try something or do something. Especially after what "Sophia" had just told him. Slowly, he looked to the side, however, doing what she said. His gaze looked up to the screen on that side, and saw that it was focused in a cell that looked like it was made into a medical room of some sort. He also saw one man sitting in a wheelchair in the center of it. Due to being black and white, it took him a moment to make out not only what had happened to the man, but who it was.

Both clicked at the same time.

The dark knight, for once in his life, honestly looked shocked. He had imagined things like this before…but to actually see it… As much as he hated to admit it, this was something beyond what he thought would ever be reality. How he ever thought he'd see him…even after their worst battles…

Sofjia shrugged. "…I warned him. And I did every last bit. Breaking the hands was easy, as was putting them in a misshapen cast. They might be salvageable if you break them out and set them properly soon…but I'm betting some permanent damage was done. And he recovered from a gunshot to the knee…so I'm doubting I kept him from walking again if he's serviced face enough on the feet and ankles. The burns, of course…they will definitely scar, especially since I left them with chemicals. Same with the skin dye. And unless he gets some willing donors who wish to see his face frozen in that permanent grin…he won't be smiling ever again. Especially since I severed the nerves on the way in. Anyway…don't bother looking for what happened to Killer Croc or Victor Zsasz. They're already gone…and I swept up their remains."

Batman snapped back to her. His face tense, his jaw clenching. "You-"

Suddenly, Sofjia's face turned violent.

"Don't you _dare_ call me a maniac, psychopath, or monster, Batman. _Don't. You. Dare!_" She viciously snapped back. She pointed a finger at him. "You haven't the right! Not the slightest damn right! How angry did you get the last time he gassed someone? How angry did you get on seeing officers lying dead with those grins on their faces? Or how angry when one of his victims had to wear a mask the rest of their life because of their acid-mangled faces? You dare to get angry at _me_, Batman…and you'll just confirm you're as big of a twisted psychopath as _him_. _You let him get away with it. Scot free. For years._ Don't you dare get indignant at me. Not for an instant. Don't take your self-righteous tone either. This isn't a matter of being moral or immoral. This isn't a matter of law or order. If you claim to have a _soul_…to be a living, breathing creature…at least _some_ part of you looks at that mangled remain of a man and is _happy_ that he can't hurt anyone else."

The dark knight was silent. His angry look slowly abated, and his face remained still. However, his gaze stayed locked on her. "You aren't his judge, jury, and executioner. You had no right to do that."

"I had _every_ right to do it. His 'real' judge, jury, and executioner should have done that or worse to him, and instead they put him back in Arkham Asylum because a stack of legal papers said they had to because he met A, B, and C on a damned checklist. You shouldn't lecture me about obeying the law either, Batman…not when you realize it's a terrible slap in this face yourself. Why else are you standing before me dressed like a bat? Why else do you try to stop them in the first place? You know full well the 'problem' wasn't just in cops that looked the other way. It was in courts, politicians…everything. You 'held to the law' by depending on it to keep men like this off the street. They wouldn't even send him to prison…wouldn't even see him as a 'real criminal', when you knew full well the truth…he was a total monster. I'm doing what you and your legal system should have done a _long_ time ago.

"Do you honestly think Waylon Jones was going to go to a job in an office one day? That you'd see him smiling and shopping for groceries? That you'd ask him how the game was or what his hobbies were? That Victor Zsasz was going to one day take vacations to the West Coast or go bicycling? That you'd shake hands at the movies and swap family stories? No! Neither you nor any other human being with a brain on this planet did! So why, oh why, did you let him live to hurt others? Why did you let any of these people live? And if you did decide to save them…why didn't you try absolutely everything and anything? Do you know why you give experimental treatments to the terminally ill, Batman? Because it doesn't matter if they die…they're already dead. This was a no-lose situation."

"Where are the others?" Batman demanded.

"Take a good look at the other monitors." Sofjia answered, lifting up and gesturing.

"I didn't ask what they're doing. I want to know _where_ they are. Right now."

In response…the woman smiled and held up the remote.

"…See this, Batman? Do you want to know what happens to them if I take my thumb off this button for even an instant?"

The dark knight was silent.

Her smile faded. "…Then _watch the monitors."_

Batman hesitated. At the moment, he couldn't immediately think of a good move to make. Sofjia was watching him as keenly as he watched her. If he went for anything on his belt…she'd know. All she had to do was move her thumb…and whatever was on the other end would trigger. With that in mind, he slowly looked up to the monitors again, keeping the corner of his vision on her…

* * *

Quinzell couldn't believe it. They made it! She actually managed to pull off looking like a psychologist! She nearly wanted to pass out… She would have if not for the treatment she had received. And now…here it was! She and Natalie were safely in a hallway where, just ahead, she could see the outline of a military helicopter. It looked Russian made…but who cared! She had taught herself how to fly a while ago so she could be a bigger help to Mr. J…

_Mr. J! I…I forgot all about him...again!_

Yet on thinking that…Harleen realized she felt different. Until now, she had felt a bit…"empowered" over the past few minutes. The first patient was only one of five all together she gave opinions on. And, to her amazement…she was smart, calm, and collected. People were listening to _her_. After so long going after everything the Joker wanted, trying her best to be his helper, to earn his affection…and receiving abuse and torment for all of it…after having nearly been killed by him more than once…abandoned others…left with injuries that should have put her in a hospital…he still didn't really seem to "want" her…even after everything he said to her when they met…

She used to feel so free…so 'alive' when she was Harley Quinn. And a part of her still wanted it…but…for the first time in a long while, she was asking herself…why? What was she getting from it? What was the need she was trying to fill with it?

After the past few weeks…was that need still there?

"Ms. Quinzell…"

Shook from her thoughts, Harleen turned around. To her surprise, Natalie was cringing. She was holding back, looking anxious and tense. She had her arms around her middle and looked back the way they came. She swallowed, and then looked to her.

"Go…go on without me."

The woman blinked. "Huh? What'cha talking about, kid?"

"…My boyfriend is still in here." She said quietly. "And…and I can't leave him. Not to this. I have to go get him out."

She blinked. "Say what? Nat, we just got out of there!"

"I know…I know…but I have to go back and try to get him anyway." She began to turn and started to recoil…looking reluctant as she did so.

"Hey no, wait a second!" She immediately advanced. She became insistent. "Kid…I've seen what you look like…how you're walkin'…how you're trying to hide stuff from me…"

Natalie paled a bit, and then shook her head. "It's…it's nothing. I hurt myself…"

Harleen frowned. "…Let me guess. You 'fell down the stairs'? Stairs that have hand-shaped steps? You ain't foolin' anyone."

The girl shook her head and looked away. "I…I need to go. Goodbye, Ms. Quinzell. You can go on from here." She began to step away.

However, the other woman reached out a hand and put it on her shoulder. Immediately, Natalie winced in pain and writhed a bit. Obviously…a bruise had been hit.

"…Banged that shoulder up on a step too, didn't ya? You know…Labdaris might be a nut, but I don't think he puts people in here who ain't 'really bad'…"

"Please let go…" Natalie spoke softly, not looking to her.

"Nat…_leave_." Quinzell went on. "He did this to you, didn't he? And it ain't the first time, is it? It ain't gonna stop. I'm not saying that the doctor is doing what's right…but don't get yourself hurt or killed on his account. Don't get thrown in a cell like I was because-"

"You don't understand!" Natalie suddenly shouted, looking back to her. "None of you do! None of you see him the way I see him! Sure, he's loud and crazy sometimes…but that's just the way he is! He's really a good guy inside! He's sweet and fun and great!"

Quinzell began to frown at this. "Kid…if he was 'sweet' and 'fun' and 'great', he wouldn't do this to you…"

"He's like the Joker!"

Hearing that, Harleen's frown faded, turning to surprise. Natalie, tearing up, looked to her.

"He's just like him, isn't he, Ms. Quinzell? Look…you're going to go after him, aren't you? You're going to call the cops to come rescue him or use the helicopter, aren't you? Because you see it! You see he's really a great guy! You can look past everything he does and see what a great person he is underneath! How wonderful and nice he can be! Well…I see him the same way! Try to see him the way I do! Then let me go and let me try to be with him! I _belong_ with him! Just like you belong with him! We were made for each other! I know we were! _I love him!_"

Harleen didn't answer. She didn't move. She didn't say a word. She merely stared and listened to this…and thought a long time…

* * *

After an eternity, for it was indeed a long corridor, Edward walked a bit further…and saw Nathan hunched near a wall, looking nervous and staring one way and another, swallowing and sweating as if he had just committed his first theft and expected police to spring out and arrest him at any moment. Yet when Nigma approached, he turned to him, and soon exhaled in relief.

"You made it! Great!" He spoke in a loud whisper as he got off the wall. "I heard what they were going to do! Labdaris is declaring the whole experiment a failure! He wants you all dead! So I'm smuggling you out! Come on!" He gestured ahead. "They're watching the helicopter bay, but there's a hidden boat dock just two floors down! No one's even guarding it! This is our chance to get out of here! We'll get to Latvia and you can get a flight home from there!"

He began to move on ahead down the hall as Nigma stopped. He got a few steps…but then paused. He noticed that he wasn't being followed. After that, he turned and looked to the man. He simply stood there and stared. Nathan blinked.

"…Well come on, Mr. Nigma. This is the way out."

He silently stared back.

The young man blinked. "…What's wrong?"

"…I can't leave."

The attendant looked confused. "Huh? Why?"

"Labdaris tricked you and me both, Nathan. He had me totally fooled. He made me think he was someone else this whole time. I want to find out his true identity. I want to find out who betrayed us back in Arkham Asylum." He paused, and then smiled and shrugged. "You know my love of riddles. I hate to let one rest. Thanks for busting me out, but I guess this is goodbye."

He turned around, meaning to go back down the hall…before a hand reached out and grabbed his wrist.

"What are you talking about?" Nathan responded. "You can't go back there! It's a miracle you got this far! They're planning on executing you soon! We don't have time! We have to go!"

Edward paused a moment…but then snickered. "…Sorry, but like I said…this is a mystery that needs a solution. If you please…" He began to move his hand away.

"No!" Nathan answered, only holding tighter.

Edward began to frown. "…Let me go, Nathan."

"Mr. Nigma, the escape is right here! You won't get another chance!"

"I said _let me go_. Now."

"Just get out of here while you can! This is your only shot! Who care about who Labdaris was? What does it matter?"

_"__It matters!"_ Nigma suddenly snapped, whirling around and glaring at Nathan wildly…enough to where he released the hand and recoiled a bit. He fumed at him. "Those damn guards…that damn doctor…again and again and again they've been calling me a fool…an idiot…taunting me with those bogus riddles…insulting my intelligence as much as possible! Mocking me! Laughing at me! I'm a _genius_, Nathan! And I'm going to let them all see it! I'm going to let them all know it! I have to know who was behind this! I have to prove I'm the smarter man! It's the principle!"

Nathan trembled a moment, seeing this sudden surge of emotion. But then, swallowing a bit, he frowned and firmed himself up.

"…I think you've got good in you, Mr. Nigma…but if there's any part of you that's really, really crazy…it's this right here." He stated. "I know you're a smart man. You're the cleverest man I know. Lots of people know that. But that's not 'enough' for you. You can't stand the fact that some people know things you don't. But don't you get it? _Nobody_ knows everything! There's some things that some people just don't know! It doesn't make them less! It doesn't make them stupid! And insults and name calls don't make anything true! If you let this go…if you walk away right now…it won't 'prove' or 'disprove' anything! You'll still be a smart man! Just…be a 'brave' man right now and admit that there's one question out there you'll never know the answer to! Just like everyone else does!"

Some of the 'hardness' on Nigma's face had vanished. He stared at Nathan, making that stand in front of him, and was quiet…

* * *

The door slowly slid open…and, on the other side, in a special chamber with a metal hatch overhead that seemed to seal like a bulkhead…a Russian military helicopter set. Joseph, still shaking like a leaf and cringing, nevertheless inched in slowly and looked around. The area was silent and filled with shadows…but also empty save for the equipment and the vehicle. He slowly exhaled, and then looked behind him.

"…No one else made it…but there's no Orderlies in here either."

A second later, Dent walked in, still brandishing the gun. There was one bullet left in it at this point, and so he was rather glad that they had made it this far. Once inside, he quickly shut the metal door behind himself and Joseph. He turned and began to walk up to it, looking it up and over a moment. Soon after, the attendant began to walk up behind him. Once he reached his side, he looked up along with him at it.

"Um…you can fly…right?"

"…The pilot I hired a couple years back got knocked out and left me stranded during a job. I started learning how to fly the very next day. Pays to have a high skill set." Harvey answered.

Joseph, seeming to calm down a bit at that and straightening up, exhaled. Soon after, he slapped his palms together. "Great… In that case, let's get going. Normally I'd say we should stay behind to look for more survivors, but…I don't really think anyone else made it… And we wouldn't get farther without weapons anyway…" He began to step to the chopper.

Suddenly, a hand lashed out and put itself against his chest. The young man blinked and looked to the source…and found Harvey Dent staring back at him dully.

"…One more thing before that, kid." He stated darkly.

The young man looked a bit uneasy at hearing that. "Um…what's that?"

Forcefully, yet slowly, Dent pushed Joseph away from the helicopter and to his other side, so that he stood between him and the rest of the chamber. The young man looked curiously at this…and with a bit of anxiety. After all, Harvey only looked at him coldly, without any warmth or gentleness in his gaze. Soon he was off to one side. Once there, Dent stepped back, still holding the gun up, and reached out to cock the barrel.

After that…he lowered it and aimed it right at the young man's head.

Joseph looked shocked. "M…Mr. Dent…why-"

"Name of the game, kid." He simply answered as he went for the quarter. "Every guy I've ever hired to help bust me out of Arkham Asylum got the same deal. Double or nothing. When it came out double, I had to start off my current run 'in the hole'. When it came out nothing…well…there were bodies left in the cell with holes in their heads. You did me a nice little act of charity, kid…and you expect something back for it, don't you? You expect your new friend to give you a lift back to the mainland. Well…it's just as likely your new friend is a deranged psychopath who doesn't want the extra baggage."

The quarter came out.

"We'll let this decide for sure."

The young man was shocked. "…Mr. Dent…"

"Don't bother. Like I told you…chance is everything. Including whether or not friendship is reciprocated. It was nice talking to you in the cell. You really helped me keep my sanity. But this is where we part ways one way or another. Heads, you live. Tails, you die."

It was still hard to flip the coin. Hard to make a decision on it. Harvey had to grit his teeth just to toss it in the air, letting it flip a few times, and then land in his palm.

"I…I thought…I was your friend…" Joseph slowly said.

Dent paused for a long time as he kept his hands closed around the coin. He kept the gun aimed at him…but was quiet. "…You were, kid. And wishy washy as you were…you seemed like a nice guy." He slowly answered. "But this is bigger than me and you. It's out of my hands. Same as always." He began to open his fingers.

"…Then…please." The young man spoke again, causing him to stop. "…As your friend…I'm asking you to let me live."

Harvey sighed. "I already told you, kid. It's out of my hands."

"But it's not." He answered. He slowly gestured. "You're there. The gun is in your hand. The coin is in your hand. You can just let it fall…and it'll be over. We'll leave as friends…and that's it."

Dent stared back at him silently. He didn't move. Time slowly ticked by.

Joseph swallowed.

"…I think you're a good man, Mr. Dent. You were once…and you will be again. It's your choice. Not chance…not fate…you."

Harvey held a bit longer. Slowly…his fingers opened up. He didn't look to the coin right away…but finally his eyes drifted down to it.

Tails.

* * *

_Finally!_

Pamela was coughing loud now. Her eyes were burning. Her strength was giving out. However…she was here. Just up ahead, there were a pair of windowed doors. One led to a biology lab…but the other led to the indoor greenhouse. The woman felt weak…but she thought she could make it from here. In spite of the flames everywhere in the halls behind her, they were subsiding from this point on. She could get the plants and run for it. She might be able to make it…

The ceiling had already partially collapsed here, falling across the hallway on both sides and covering both doors. It looked pretty heavy…but she was pretty sure she could move it. Yet as she neared, she got another horrific surprise. Through the glass windows, she could see that both rooms were already filled with flames. The gas lines had to have broken in them already…and were covering them with fire… At any moment now, another "bubble" in the lines could fully engulf them…assuming they weren't already.

Picking up speed, her heart racing, Pamela ran up to the door and looked inside the one for the greenhouse.

There wasn't much in there. Just a few spots for watering and a "white lamp" to give them plenty of light…and already the entire place was filled with fire. The walls…the ceiling…all aflame. Two of the plants, to her horror, were already burning and unsalvageable. Only one remained, surrounded by deadly fire. The very plant they forced her to torture to feed that rabbit… She remembered it anywhere. At any moment, the fire could erupt and consume it…

Quickly, she began to reach for the debris. She had to get it aside…had to get in…had to save it…

"Ms. Isley! Help!"

Suddenly, Pamela looked up. She blinked, and turned around and received another shock.

Catherine was in the other room…the lab. Currently, she looked blackened and singed, coughing and choking. She was now pounding on the door for all she was worth, which wasn't much. She had to be weak from smoke inhalation, given the room she was in was covered with fire. She was struggling to open the door, but was already too weak to do so.

"Let me out! Please!" She begged. "I can't open the door!"

The woman wasn't sure why she was in there… Perhaps she had been going…for a vaccine? Maybe they had subjected her to the same virus as her? Or…or maybe she had actually been going for one for her? Or maybe just treatment for the burns she had received…which Pamela could see right now on her body…

Yet she didn't move, even as the woman continued to plead and bang on the door. She looked back to the greenhouse…to the innocent plant on the table…and then back to the other door…to the woman who would die if she didn't do something fast…

* * *

"Who…who's there?"

The voice was laced with fear and anxiety. Clearly terrified. Clearly trying its best to hold it together. It received no answer. Crane, from his position, merely stood there and looked into the dark. He could hear no more gunshots, rumbles, or anything else from here. All was darkness and silence. And he knew, Baxter was currently fumbling around it, struggling to find his way out. Lost…alone…and in the dark…the attendant who had been at his side through the past few weeks, giving him comfort and relief, was now scared out of his mind.

"Who's there?!"

Crane didn't smile. Normally, he would have…but he couldn't bring himself to do it this time. This was a gift wrap to him. He didn't need any fear toxin here. There were thousands of ways he could "milk" fear out of Baxter. So many came to mind with him just standing there…seeing how easy it would be…how simple… He could even kill him with his bare hands. After all, Baxter knew that Jonathan was a psychopath…how he had murdered many before him…how he had talked people into committing suicide. He was that much of a master of fear…

Yet why didn't he?

He didn't have a cure yet, to be sure. Getting momentary "pleasure" from drinking of Baxter's fear wouldn't change that fact. And yet, in spite of that…he couldn't quite bring himself to "get started". The ability to manipulate the fear of others…to dominate them with that fear, to gain control over their minds and wills by controlling their fear…nothing gave him more joy and satisfaction. And yet…everything that had happened over the past few weeks…everything that had transpired that he had to endure…the constant torture and conditioning to make him only feel fear and not want to cause it… He felt strangely…satisfied now. "Sated", one might say. A part of him said something different…something he never thought he'd think of…

_Speak quietly and calmly to the young man…offer him your hand…and gently lead him out of the dark._

He couldn't believe it. It almost sickened him to think that such a thought would be in his head. Yet…it was there…as well as thoughts Baxter had given him…thoughts of him resuming psychology…publishing papers on all he had learned from his years as a super criminal…walking into Arkham Asylum as a doctor again and not a patient…

What to do…

* * *

Batman looked at all of these, and then back to Sofjia.

"Time to put up or shut up for my father's research, Batman." The woman stated. "I wanted to give them all months of therapy…but I don't have that luxury anymore. I'll just have to see if I was effective now. I've brought them to this point. Weeks of conditioning, brainwashing, empathy generation, and every aspect of their lives closely monitored and controlled…up until now. The final choice. The final test. Do they realize that there is the potential for good in them and embrace it…or do they cling to the evil they've loved for so long? None of those actors are in danger, mind you. All that matters is what they choose…if they see themselves as humans or as monsters.

"Of course…as I said…I vowed to keep society safe from them no matter what." She began to gesture around. "'Natalie' is one of the greatest young assassins in Eastern Europe as well as a talented actor. In Harleen Quinzell's weakened state, it will be easy to snap her neck. Edward Nigma set off a mine when he walked back toward 'Nathan'. If he goes back the way he came, it will go off 'Bouncing Betty' style and take off his head. As you probably guessed, Harvey Dent has been flipping a trick coin. I assumed he would make tails the 'bad decision' every time, and I was right. However, that gun he's using is modified to fire the last shot back at its user. He'll blow off his own head trying to shoot 'Joseph'. 'Catherine' is in no danger. But if Pamela Isley opens the door to the greenhouse the gas will erupt and engulf her in flame instantly. Crane is moving very well in the dark…but it seems even he isn't aware of the fact that Baxter is both wearing 'silent' night vision goggles and has a gun pointed at his head, and will fire the moment he tries to scare him."

"Sofjia…" Batman began to say, starting to advance.

"_And…_" The woman stated, causing the man to stop in his tracks. "The moment you make a step toward me, a hand toward your utility belt, or in any way, shape, or form look like you're trying to stop me…I release this trigger, which sends a signal to the lapels of their inmate uniforms, which are connected to small explosives powerful enough to open their carotid arteries and jugular veins based on where they're placed and which they all have been too addled and dazed to notice were put on them during therapy sessions days ago. Tell me, sir…do you have a plan to get around this?"

The dark knight didn't move, but he focused on her. "Sofjia…put it down. Put a stop to this. It's over."

"My guess is Sophia is going into a padded cell after this, isn't she? Such a pity…she really doesn't deserve to be in with these inmates…but maybe they'll fear her now at least…"

"This won't give your father notoriety. It won't prove anything. Not after the law is done looking at the aftermath."

"I'm at the point of no return, Batman. And in a few more moments, when they make decisions, it won't matter."

"It can. Put the remote down. If Sophia isn't a killer…and you don't want that to be your last reputation…which will be what truly ruins your father's legacy…then stop this."

Sofjia paused a moment, then snickered. "…I've already 'killed again', Batman. Croc and Zsasz…remember?"

"You weren't there." He answered. "It happened through your proxies. No one would ever believe a woman like Sophia ordered it."

The woman paused, and then raised an eyebrow. "…You're actually willing to _cover_ for me? For _those_ two? Well…I don't know what to say. Is it because you're starting to see me as a true 'supercriminal' that you're offering, Batman? Giving me some slack? Or deep down, in your heart of hearts, do you know what I know? That they were incurable? That I did the world a favor?"

He didn't answer. He had to keep thinking…keep talking…try to find a way out of this dilemma…a move to make…

After a time, Sofjia smiled softly.

"…I'll make you a deal, sir." She said slowly. "Give me one reason…_one _good reason…not to kill them now and be done with it…one reason to spare their lives…something that will convince me…and I'll do as you say and stop it. I'll let them all go. Just one."

The dark knight stared silently back. He didn't move a muscle…didn't say a word. His mind was operating a mile a minute…thinking hard about what his next move would be. It would likely be all he had time for.

"…I'm waiting." Sofjia cooed.

* * *

THE END

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Right now, if you're this far, you're probably shocked...thinking: "What, is that a typo? Is this really the end?"

It is.

For those of you who ever read "The Lady or the Tiger"...I did the same deal here. Just as the story ends when the man opens a door, I thought of ending here. To be honest...I wasn't sure how to end it. Do I have Batman whip out a last minute plan to stop Sofjia and save the surviving inmates? Or does he fail and they all get killed? If they live...do they go right back to their old ways? Do they get 'cured'? Do some of them revert and others 'go legit'? Does it last? What about Sofjia? Does she die getting stopped by Batman? Does she 'go quietly' to become an inmate of Arkham Asylum herself? Lastly...what would the readers like? What do they expect? For Batman to "repeat the cycle" of bringing them back to become inmates again? Does he finally "break" and leave them to Sofjia? Should he try and fail? I couldn't decide or agree one which ending was most appropriate...and so I left it up to the reader.

What do _you_ think happened next?

I decided to actually have some fun with this. I'm willing to consider whatever ideas you have for the ending...how you personally would "end the story". I won't even mind whoever is a reader and a fan to actually write their own ending...but barring that I wouldn't mind a fairly "detailed synopsis" of what they think happened after this.

Who knows? After getting a few of them, I might publish multiple endings that all seem "good".

Anyway...see you later. :)


	12. Author's Note

Just as a side note... A poll is now open on my profile for how you'd like this story to end. If you don't see the option you want listed, you can always post in comments or PM me.

Currently there have only been about five people in all between comments and polls who have suggested an ending out of a couple hundred viewers, indicating to me no one really cares if this ever gets an ending or not, which is fine by me as these things take time and effort to write. If that's incorrect, please vote.


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